


with the birds (i'll share this lonely view)

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, DeanxBenny, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Rough Sex, RubyxSam, Stuff happens, aromantic anorgasmic pansexual RN Meg, brief MegxOMC, brief mention of past suicide, it's all over the place, past CastielxDaphne, past MegxRuby, past self harm, side pairing, they feed ducks, they jello wrestle, veteran divorced heterosexual knitter Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is thirty nine, recently divorced and lives alone with his cat when his friends drag him out one Friday night to ’69 taps’. Meg is twenty four and just looking for fun when they first meet, both of them down to underwear in a kiddie pool full of red jello. A trip the ER and an awkward breakfast later, neither of them will realize it for a while but they’re both in way over their heads for very different reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. falling all over myself

**Notes** : A massive thank you to my artist [septembertuesday](http://septembertuesday.tumblr.com) for the super awesome art, you went above and beyond with the headers and the dividers and gosh everything is just so sweet and you really picked out some of my favorite moments in the fic, thank you so much! A hella thanks also to my friends [salesassociatesteve](http://salesassociatesteve.tumblr.com) and [thedropoutandthejunkie](http://thedropoutandthejunkie.tumblr.com) for beta'ing and giving great feedback. And a thanks to [maidenpool](http://maidenpool.tumblr.com) for keeping me sane throughout this ordeal. A huge thank you too, to the mods of the BB [maidenpool](http://maidenpool.tumblr.com) and [msdoomandgloom](http://msdoomandgloom.tumblr.com), thank you guys for putting this together! 

-

Titles from Red Hot Chili Peppers[ 'Scar Tissue'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzJj5-lubeM)

\---

\---

The stainless steel kettle on the stove whistled, sending a plume of steam up. Castiel turned the stove off, set the kettle aside on a trivet on the counter, and finished unloading the dishwasher. Rinsing and loading the few dirty dishes from the sink to the dishwasher after it was emptied, he dried his hands on a towel and picked out his favorite cobalt blue mug. Standing in front of his spice cupboard that had a whole shelf and a half also dedicated to teas, Castiel considered Earl Gray, Peppermint, and Mango green before picking out the Earl Gray box and taking a tea bag out.

Pouring the hot water in his mug with the tea bag, he let that steep as he rummaged for the jar of honey that always got shoved to the back of the cupboard. Dolloping a spoonful in, he stirred and pulled the bag out on the spoon, wrapping the string around the spoon and bag to squeeze it out before dropping it in the pedal waste basket beside the counters.

Taking his tea through the kitchen to the living room, one space opening up to the next without walls in between, Castiel settled on the couch. He was really quite happy with the condo he'd bought in full almost two months ago. The kitchen and living room were separated by a line of cabinet and countertop, there were two modest bedrooms down a small hall and a nice sized bathroom. What Castiel was most pleased with was the view out of the living room windows that stretched almost floor to ceiling.

His condo was on the fourth floor of the large brick building, and situated at the back. It faced the wooded ravine that separated the condominium complex from a maze of sprawling suburban houses. He liked to watch the sunset from his west facing living room, setting behind the low ranch roof tops of the houses and the big leafy canopy of the trees. It was a quiet neighborhood. And close enough to his workplace that he could commute by bicycle. Castiel was finally settling in to a new routine.

A fat orange tabby jumped on the couch and made itself comfortable in his lap. Castiel set his tea down on the coffee table and scritched under the cat's chin. Leaning forward to grab the remote, he turned the television on to the NatGeo channel. It was playing something about lions. Castiel happily set the remote aside and stretched to reach the basket of yarn underneath the coffee table. His cat shifted as he did, settling back in his lap as Castiel set the basket next to him on the couch and pulled out his knitting project.

He'd bought the couch for twenty dollars at a garage sale several weeks ago, still furnishing his new condo. The place had come with some furniture, a nice solid light wood bed room set, a modern chrome and laminate kitchen table with chairs. The rest Castiel found piecemeal at sales and second hand shops. He liked this couch. It might have a strange bright green paisley pattern, but it was comfortable and plush. Nothing in his condo matched, but that was all right. He'd repainted all the white and beige walls in soft greens and blues the first weekend he moved in.

It was perfectly relaxing. Castiel was settled for another quiet Friday night, the sky blushing with sunset, his cat asleep on his lap, when his phone rang. He knew who it was before he saw 'Dean' flash on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Cas, hey, we're gonna be there in a half hour or so to take you out."

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Benny of course, and Sam's coming too.”

Castiel shifted and folded his knitting neatly on top of the basket as he cradled the phone against his shoulder with his ear. 

"And where exactly are you planning on taking me?"

"Out for drinks."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm busy."

"You so aren't. I bet you're just sitting on your couch with your cat watching Antique's Roadshow and knitting."

Castiel looked down at his cat, draped over his lap, and sighed. "Incorrect. I'm watching a documentary on lions.”

"Cas. Come on. Come out with us. Man, I hardly see you anymore since you moved out."

"I know, I'm sorry Dean."

"Hey, hey I'm not trying to make you feel guilty about it or anything. But holing up in your condo all the time ain't healthy. You're turning into a hermit, dude."

"I just ... I don't think I'm really ready to...."

"I promise I'm not trying to hook you up with anyone, just drinks with the guys."

"All right."

"Yeah? Awesome man, we'll be there soon!"

Castiel hung up and tossed his phone on top of his abandoned knitting work, petting his cat as a lion mauled an antelope on the television. "Well, I suppose you'll have the place to yourself tonight. No wild parties, and I'll know if you get in to the nip."

Castiel figured he ought to get up and get dressed. He should probably tidy a little, but it's not as though his friends would mind. He tried to remember the last time he had seen Dean, and he actually had to get up and check the calendar on the kitchen wall to remember what day it was. Two weeks. It had been two weeks since he'd seen Dean or Benny. He really hadn't made the effort to see them as often as he ought to after he moved out of their apartment. They were nice enough to offer him their couch after he moved here and he had occupied it for three months before finding his own place. Dean knew he was still struggling with mild depression after the divorce, and was more than content to give Castiel his space, up to a certain limit. And Dean probably had a point, he'd been growing increasingly isolationist.

It was almost a year now since the divorce. Ten years. He had been married to Daphne for ten years of his life. That was almost a quarter of his existence. They'd bought a house together. Had insurance policies together. Daphne was there for him through his mother's death several years ago, the last of his biological family. He thought that she, and her family, would be his family for the rest of this life. But there was one thing that Castiel found he couldn't give her. Children.

Castiel had been twenty eight after he was discharged from the Air Force following five years of service, a combat injury and several months in the hospital for recovery. He met Dean in the hospital, lucky to still have his leg and a very chatty roommate. When Castiel was recovered enough to go back home, he promised to keep in touch with Dean who would be returning to his own home that was states away from Castiel.

He returned to live with his mother and look for a job, volunteering at the church to give himself purpose until he found a way to support himself. It was there that he met Daphne, sweet and kind and sympathetic. In retrospect, Castiel is uncertain why they decided to get married after knowing each other for only a few months. But they were both nearing thirty, still single and alone. And his mother was so happy for him to have met a nice girl at church. When he found a job putting his business degree to moderate use doing clerical work for a factory assembly plant, he started saving for a wedding, a house, a life together with Daphne.

She had wanted children since their wedding night. Castiel thought that he wanted children too, just not right away. He worried excessively. At first he worried that his PTSD would affect his ability to be a father. He worried that his salary wasn't large enough. He worried that he wouldn't be able to provide the material or emotional support that a child would need.

After several years, the mortgage slowly shrinking, several promotions, and a good amount of therapy later, Daphne started talking about children again. Still, he worried. The war was still going on although the public's interest in it was waning. The economy was tanking. The rising costs of college tuition and health insurance worried him.

Only six years in and there was a rift growing between them. Daphne gave him space. Too much perhaps, and he let her, he slid away from her and walled himself off. He worried about the state of the educational system, about financial institutions, about GMO's and the vicious divisiveness in politics. It was never quite the right time.

They finally realized that it would never be the right time. After ten years, they divorced. Castiel wasn't bitter about it, he wasn't interested in bickering. He took half the savings and one of the cars, a few boxes of his clothes and books, and he left. The divide between them had been gradually widening for so long, and yet the separation had seemed so sudden.

He was fortunate that one of his friends from work was kind enough to let him stay in her spare bedroom. Hannah worked in the position one rung down from him and Castiel had no doubt she would take his position one day. Most likely sooner rather than later. He had no interest in staying in their town, nothing to keep him there. Yet he had no where else to go. After trudging to work for a month past the divorce, Castiel gave up and quit. He hadn't realized at the time how severe his depression was, he just lived off his savings in Hannah's guest room.

Throughout his entire marriage and the fallout thereof, Castiel had kept in touch with Dean through letters and e-mail. Dean, who had married someone he met in the army, Benny. Castiel had never met Benny, but he saw more than enough pictures of the smiling couple to know how good for each other they were. Over the years of his uneventful marriage, he kept up with Dean's messages of them living together, opening a restaurant together, finally marrying when it was legalized. Dean told Castiel about his brother, Sam, and what he was doing. Dean told him about cooking, tattoos, traveling, renovating his house, everything and anything.

After the divorce, Castiel tried to isolate, to hide basically from everything in the hopes that he could hide from himself. Hannah decided she knew better for him - and she had - and got in contact with Dean to fill him in on what Castiel was not telling him. It resulted in Benny and Dean moving things around in their life for him, and after living with Hannah for five months he finally moved out, states away, to occupy Benny and Dean's guest bedroom.

Dean hated his cat. And was horrendously allergic. Castiel couldn't bear to give up his friend for adoption, and felt terrible keeping the cat confined to one room. He managed to find his own accommodations after a few months, and a new job. With the savings he had, he bought his condo out right and didn't need much for his basic necessities. So he took a minimum wage job with no responsibility working at a Gas n' Sip.

It was really quite marvelous. He never had to take his work home wit him. His biggest worry at work was the Slurpee machine backing up. It was an undemanding job within biking distance of his condo, so he sold his car and that was one less worry. He took up a hobby and started to knit. He lined the windowsills in plants. Castiel was happy. He realized he was even happier than when he was married to Daphne. He had no one else to take care of, to worry about. Although he missed sleeping next to a warm body and the comfortable companionship that they'd had in the first few years of their marriage, he liked the quiet simplicity of his life here.

Dean was right though. He was perhaps a little too introverted. And he had promised his friends that he'd keep in touch, that he'd see them regularly so Dean wouldn't have to worry about him. It wasn't as though Castiel disliked spending time with them, it was just that it was too emotionally draining sometimes that he couldn't muster the effort. Tonight though, tonight felt like it might be a good night.

Castiel was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of a buzzer. Shooing the cat off his lap he went to the front door, pressing down on the button on the console pad that communicated with the front entrance. Dean's voice came through riddled with static. Castiel said hello and buzzed them in. In the few minutes it took for them to come up, he tucked his knitting basket back under the table and put his tea mug in the dishwasher. He had been too distracted daydreaming to get dressed and was still wearing blue plaid pajama bottoms and an old 'earth day' t-shirt when a loud knock came from the door.

Dean's smiling face was the first to meet him when he swung the door open. Dean pulled him in for a hug and slapped his back with a 'Hey Cas' before making his way in to the condo. Benny pulled him in for a one armed hug and back slap as well.

"How have you been brother?"

"I've been all right, how are you?"

"Good, good."

Benny made his way over to the living room and sat heavily on the couch next to Dean. Sam stood just inside the door and gave Castiel a small wave.

"Hello Sam, it's good to see you."

"Yeah, you too Cas. Do you uh, are you still getting ready?"

Castiel nodded, "Sorry, time got away from me."

From the couch, Dean waved him off. "Don't worry about it, night's still young. Go get dressed man, we're just going to a casual bar for some beers okay?"

"I won't be long."

Castiel turned as Sam crouched down and made kissing noises at the tabby who was warily eyeing the strangers from the hallway. Castiel was pleased to see the feline trot over to Sam, even letting himself get picked up. Sam seemed quite happy with the turn of events, carefully holding the cat and rubbing it's chin.

Padding down the hallway to his bedroom, Castiel shut the door and pulled a pair of jeans out of his dresser. He'd seen Sam in passing, but the young man had only just come back to the states from a deployment in the Peace Corps. It amused Castiel that both brothers had joined government organizations that worked overseas but for vastly different purposes. He thinks in retrospect that if he had given it deeper consideration in his early twenties, he may have picked something like the Peace Corps over the Air Forces.

Pulling on a white undershirt, Castiel considered his dresser drawer of old t-shirts. Those he usually wore for work around the house, well condo now, and exercise. Perhaps that would be more appropriate for casual attire though. But he felt more comfortable still in crisp white button downs. He'd worn them to work for a decade, and although his job at the Gas n' Sip didn't require anything near business casual attire, he still wore them. He felt relaxed in them, it was a part of his identity.

Castiel closed the dresser and picked a button down out of the closet. He pulled a blue tie around his neck, then discarded it and pulled a gray tie on. He had that half knotted before deciding on a red tie. Huffing to himself in vague frustration, Castiel leaned against the dresser and squinted at his reflection. He hadn't gone out for a while. There was no reason to be anxious, but he was. Scratching the scruff along his jaw he wondered if he had time to shave, but the others were already here and waiting.

Finishing the knot in the red tie he smoothed it down. He felt almost bare without a suit jacket or a blue work vest. So he settled on pulling on a waist coat, a charcoal gray one that he liked with the color of his tie. It was good enough, the jeans were casual, he had started wearing jeans since he lived with Dean and Benny. They were certainly more comfortable and lower maintenance than slacks.

Everyone was on the couch when he came back out, and by the looks of it thoroughly engrossed with the documentary on lions that Castiel had been watching. There was a lioness with blood running through her fur as she ripped into a carcass that Castiel could not identify at this point. Castiel moved to the kitchen area and filled a small cat dish with kibble for just in case and set it on the floor. It should last all night, but the tabby cat streaked in to devour it right away.

"I'm ready to head out, unless you are all more interested in the documentary?"

Dean laughed and pushed up off the couch, "I guess it's not that bad a way to spend a night."

He came around the line of counters and reached out, loosening Castiel's tie a little and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt. Castiel had come to understand this as a kind of 'grooming'. Dean rolled up his shirt sleeves to the elbow and slapped Castiel on the upper arm.

"There, you'll be beating the girls off with a stick."

Benny was standing behind Dean, rolling his eyes. "Darlin', don't frighten him off before we get out the door."

Castiel smiled and moved to the small table by the door where his keys were, pocketing them with his wallet and phone. "Perhaps I will be daring enough tonight to solicit a phone number."

The bar that Dean drove them to was a squat brown cinder block building with a row of motorcycles parked in front and neon signs in the windows. ’69 Taps’ sprawled on a sign above the entrance to the building with a sign hanging to the side declaring that tonight they would be hosting a jello wrestling tournament; Castiel rolled his eyes to himself in the back seat, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what jello wrestling was but it seemed to be fairly self explanatory. 

There was a car repair garage to one side of the bar, and rail road tracks on the other side. A small strip of shops sat on the other side of the street - a pizza place, a hair salon, a convenience store. The area looked a little shabby but Castiel supposed it was just the sort of place that Dean liked and since he was the one driving it’s where they ended up. 

The parking lot was gravel and they passed a group of smokers chatting loudly outside before making their way in to the bar. Sam wove his way through a light crowd to a table in the corner. Everyone followed suit and Castiel sat himself down with his back to the wall. Dean tossed his jacket over a chair and said he’d be back with drinks. 

There were deer antlers and animal heads hung on the walls, an old juke box in one corner, the floor scuffed and worn, tables set up with mis matching chairs, two pool tables to one side and a few dart boards. It looked like a casual place, and Castiel was honestly a little surprised at how much of a crowd there already was for so early in the night. 

Sam slapped him on the shoulder. “So Cas, how have you been? You must be enjoying your own place without having to live with these two?”

He was smiling good naturedly, and Castiel liked him, how friendly he was and how easy with conversation. “It’s been nice, I will admit I miss Dean’s cooking, but my cat has been keeping me company.”

Dean made his way back to the table with a pitcher of beer and shots on a tray. He sat down next to Benny and started pushing drinks towards people, Benny resting a hand on his thigh under the table. 

Castiel accepted a drink from Dean with a ‘thank you’, carrying on his conversation with Sam. “So where did you get back from exactly?”

“Uganda, I mostly worked helping on the construction of irrigation lines for agriculture, but we built a school house too.”

“That must be very rewarding.”

“Yeah, it was pretty great. I still felt sometimes like I wasn’t really doing enough, you know, there’s so much they need, and I know a lot of people feel like we should help repair America before doing anything overseas, but it’s a great program, every little thing helps.”

“Are you going on another assignment, somewhere else?” Castiel leaned back in his chair and sipped beer while they talked.

“No, I think I’m going to stay home for a while, I’ve missed people here. I might have a job lined up.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Dean has some friends in construction and I think I’ll do that, at least for the summer.”

Dean interjected, “You know Lou would be glad to have you, Sammy, you stick around a while.”

“Yeah. I will.”

Dean leaned back casually in his chair, one of Benny’s arms slung across his shoulders. “Hey you know what Sammy, me and Benny are thinking of organizing a hike down the Appalachian trail next year. You should stick around, do that with us.”

Sam considered it with a warm smile, beer cradled between his large hands. “I’d really like that. Dude, Cas, you should come too. Are you in to hiking?”

“I am. I have wanted to travel more, now…”

He trailed off leaving the rest unspoken. It wasn’t as though Daphne held him back, he simply had rearranged priorities. As he had aged, so had perspective and things were forgotten and lost from childhood easily. Like his desire to travel, to see all the exotic places he read about in National Geographic, to learn new things and meet new people. 

Benny leaned forward as he refilled glasses with the pitcher. “Oh yeah? Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, really.”

Castiel had been keeping track of how many drinks and of what kind he’d been consuming as the night wore on. It was a sort of game, or mental exercise. Keeping track was also useful for knowing his own boundaries. However, the game as well as his boundaries had been well and truly obliterated several tequila shots ago. At least, Castiel thinks it was only several tequila shots ago. Perhaps more than that. 

He’s not a very heavy drinker, and he does not frequent bars on a regular basis. But when he is in the mind to, and when he has the right company, Castiel is very good at drinking. Perhaps too good. Well, he is an ‘all in’ or ‘all out’ kind of guy. Most nights, it’s a kettle’s worth of tea before bed. Tonight he set his mind to drinking and he’s exceeding his own expectations. 

Dean has been tipped against Benny for a while now, with one of Benny’s arms around his shoulders holding him up. Benny doesn’t drink nearly so much as the rest of them, but he’s good company and seems to be very cheerfully tolerant of his drunk partner. Sam, now, Castiel likes drinking with Sam. The alcohol most likely does not affect him as much because of just how much of him there is, but he’s pink cheeked and laughs at the stupidest things and he’s very physical, easily slapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and dragging him over to point something out. Castiel likes the feeling of casual friendship.

As the night has proceeded, the jello wrestling event has unfolded. The kiddie pool of jello was set up on the small dance floor space, and most of the patrons on the bar were gathered around it, blocking the view from the little corner table that the four of them still occupied. But as the crowds shifted they could see glimpses of what was happening and there was a DJ who acted as the ring master, narrating over microphone what was happening as well as counting out the final tap which was set at five. 

There were numerous girls stripped down to bras and panties that joined in the revelry. Some came wearing bikinis. Other’s wore shorts and tight shirts. Castiel was surprised to learn that there was a sizable pot of winnings at stake, one hundred and fifty dollars to the last person standing. As people were defeated, the winners were pitted against each other, and it seemed the game would go to one of two heavily tattooed brunettes which the DJ introduced as Ruby and Meg. The crowd seemed to love them, and Castiel assumed that they were regulars here who had participated in this tradition of jello wrestling before. 

Castiel was surprised by how much he enjoyed following the dwindling hopefuls vying for the title of jello wrestling champion, and Dean was quite pleased with himself that Castiel was having a good night. He was a good friend. 

There was, however, one thing which irked Castiel.

“Why are there only women participating?” He slurred a little, licking the last grains of salt from the rim of a margarita cup. He couldn’t remember getting it, but margaritas were very tasty. Sam had a pink colored drink with little umbrellas hanging out of the cup. Why didn’t Castiel get a little umbrella?

Dean laughed and took a swig of his beer,”Seriously Cas? Look around you, what kind of bar you think this is.”

“One that serves alcohol. No, really, why are there only women wrestling?”

Benny rolled his eyes. Castiel knew that he was definitively homosexual whereas Dean was bisexual, but Benny didn’t seem to mind Dean’s interest in watching women so long as he treated them like museum pieces - no touching. 

Dean patted him on the shoulder, “Dude this is a straight bar, the point of jello wrestling is to get chicks naked and dirty.”

Sam huffed and gave Dean what Castiel was learning Dean had dubbed his ‘bitch face’.

Castiel squinted across the crowd at the DJ holding up one of the brunette’s wrists declaring her winner of the match. The two brunettes who had dominated the night were set to wrestle each other now to determine the winner.

Castiel persisted, “If it’s a straight bar and the point of women wrestling is to titillate the men’s interest, why wouldn’t men wrestle to generate interest with the women?”

Dean shrugged, “It’s just the way it is man.”

Castiel squinted at Dean, “I think it’s sexist.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Well they don’t explicitly state that only women can participate from what I can tell, so I’m going to throw my hand in the ring.” 

Castiel pushed his chair back with an uncomfortably loud screech as Sam fell on the table laughing, and Dean caught his arm. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Once on his feet, he was steady at least. The women in the kiddie pool were really quite skilled and watching them from closer Castiel was almost distracted from his mission, but he pushed through the crowds to the DJ booth. 

“Excuse me!”

The DJ was an older man, heavily muscled with salt and pepper hair, who leaned closer to talk. “Yeah?”

“Are you still accepting new entries for the jello wrestling?”

“Yeah, you got a friend wants to throw in?”

“I would like to enter.”

The man leaned back and laughed, then decided he was serious, frowned and eyed Castiel from head to foot before saying, “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“Guys don’t jello wrestle.”

“I’d like to.”

“Nope. You’d have an unfair advantage on the girls.”

“Excuse me, there are plenty of women just as skilled at the sport as there are men. “

“Well, it’s not happening. I’m not having a guy get half naked and get in there with the women.”

Castiel hadn’t considered that point. “And if I have another male friend and we’d like to enter ourselves, just for the fun of it?”

The DJ rolled his eyes. “You sure you know how to have fun?”

“I do.”

He shook his head. “Whatever. You and your buddy wanna to make asses of yourselves to prove a point you can have at it but you’re not going to be in the running for the prize money.”

“That’s acceptable,” Castiel told his back as the DJ moved closer to the kiddie pool where one of the women seemed to be gaining the upper hand. 

Castiel toddered back to their table. He didn’t sit down, just tugged on Dean’s sleeve.

“Dean.”

“Yeah Cas?”

“Come jello wrestle with me.”

Dean stared up at him. Benny was the one laughing now.

“Whadya mean, I’m not gonna wrestle.”

Benny unhooked his arm from Dean and shoved him towards Castiel. “Go on sugar, I know I’d enjoy the show.”

“Please, Dean.”

Dean groused, “You can put your goddam puppy eyes away,” but he was up and following Castiel across the bar to the kiddy pool area. The DJ was winding down on a ‘3 - 2 - 1’, lifting up a victorious Meg’s arm into the air and declaring her the winner while the other woman she was wrestling, Ruby, grabbed a handful of jello to shove down her bra. It was a very dignified sport. 

The DJ saw Castiel come back with his friend. 

“All right ladies and gentleman, we’ve got a treat for you tonight, well it’s just a treat for the ladies at least. This has never happened in 69 Taps jello wrestling history, but we’ve got two more contestants who want to throw their hands in the ring. Introduce yourselves, fellas.”

The mic was shoved in Castiel’s face and he rumbled, “Castiel.”

When it was pushed at Dean, he introduced himself with, “My name is Dean Winchester, I’m an aquarius, I like long walks on the beach and frisky women.”

That earned some laughter from the crowd. Castiel was quick to strip down to his plain white boxers and step inside the kiddie pool, squishing bright red jello in between his toes. Someone threw another bucket of jello in. There were women jostling to the front of the crowds with obvious interest, and while most men seemed amused some seemed irritated and Castiel figured they could just fuck off. 

It was dim enough in the bar, and Castiel was drunk enough, that he was not self conscious at all about the smattering of old faded scars that ran down his left side from his ribs to below his hip. He reminded himself that Dean’s knee still bothered him sometimes and to go easy on it. Speaking of, Dean was taking his time stripping to the catcalls, wiggling his hips when he was down to Iron Man briefs that Castiel was unaware they made in adult sizes. 

Although he may have resisted at first, Dean was all cocky grins when he stepped into the ring. They shook hands and went to either side of the small pool. Castiel stood and looked down at his feet a moment, squishing the red jello between his toes. It felt… wonderful. He was thirty nine years old, still getting over his divorce, drunk in a redneck bar with his friends, and wearing a pair of boxers in a pool of jello. He had never once considered in his life that he would be in this sort of situation. It was liberating. 

Castiel didn’t realize the DJ had shouted for the match to start until Dean slammed in to him. 

It was true that both of them had been trained in combat, however, that was years ago. Castiel jogged every morning, but it wasn’t like he sparred or anything. Muscle was still there, under a layer of fat that had accumulated in domesticated marriage. Nonetheless, he grappled and twisted and ended up straddling Dean on his back in the pool, only to be flipped and pinned momentarily. Castiel soon discovered this sport was slippery and treacherous. And tasty. 

Dean ended up pinning him face first with one arm twisted painfully behind himself, and the DJ counted down to two before Castiel managed to wiggle out of his hold, shoving his hips up and unbalancing Dean’s perch. The crowd was laughing and whistling, the two of them kept rolling against the knee high sides of the pool and sending jello flying. Hooking a leg sideways around Dean’s waist, Castiel got him flipped onto his belly and twisted both arms under Dean’s armpits to clasp his hands at the back of Dean’s neck in a hold. 

There was no purchase to be had from the jello slippery floor of the small kiddie pool, staying on top of Dean proved difficult but Castiel swayed with how he bucked up trying to send Castiel flying, keeping Dean’s arms up at an awkward angle and holding him down. Castiel distantly heard the DJ counting down until the crowd erupted with cheers and he was declared the winner of the match. 

He suddenly felt a little foolish when he stood covered in jello and had to actually look at people, but Dean was perfectly content to bounce up and wave at everyone, slinging a leg over the edge of the pool and crawling out. Castiel was about to do so when the DJ released his wrist, but the young brunette - Meg - that had won all the women’s matches stepped up and declared that she wanted to challenge Castiel. 

Castiel hadn’t realized how small she was until she stepped into the kiddie pool and just barely came up to his shoulders. But she tipped her head back and glared at him. 

“I’ve held this title four months in a row, I’m not letting you steal my thunder pretty boy.”

“I had no intentions of such, I just, thought it looked like fun.”

“Oh it is, and I’ll have a hell of a lot of fun pinning your ass to the floor.”

The DJ’s voice boomed over the microphone, “What do you think ladies and gents, should we let our resident champion take on the newcomer?”

Castiel had not expected this when he tugged Dean over to wrestle with him. The crowd erupted in drunken hollering and Meg was grinning at him threateningly. He would see this through to the end. The DJ hadn’t wanted him to wrestle with the women out of a perceived advantage as a male, but Castiel would not underestimate this woman. From what he had seen of her previous matches, she was fierce. 

Dropping in to a lower crouched defensive stance, Castiel nodded and Meg laughed as the DJ called the start of the match. 

She charged him first. Castiel swiveled to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her, intending to drop her to the floor. Meg shifted her weight and slammed her shoulder into his sternum, getting a hold on his hips and grappling. She was very strong. And much more experienced in this. While Castiel drunkenly slipped in the jello and failed to secure his hold on her, Meg slid her feet wider and braced, using her smaller stature to topple him with a twisting push at his midsection, throwing off his balance. 

Slammed to his back in a wet squelch of jello, Castiel stared up at the woman who was grinning maniacally as she leapt and slammed her body down on him. Bucking his hips, he tossed her to the side and rolled, vision momentarily impeded with jello. She squirmed and writhed, getting him to one side but then he was pressing against the plastic wall of the shallow kiddie pool. Grunting, panting, skin slapping and limbs tangled, somehow Castiel ended up face first in the jello with Meg straddling his back. 

Getting his hands and knees underneath him, she was forced to slide down as he heaved up. Castiel was ready to flip around and catch her, but, as she slipped down behind him she took his boxers with her. 

Cold air hit his ass and Castiel froze. A knee was pressed to the spot between his shoulder blades and his face dropped back down into the jello as his arms gave out. 

She slapped his ass. 

Slapped him. 

Ass up and bare with his face shoved in jello in the middle of a redneck bar while he was pinned down by a woman, Castiel only struggled weakly as the DJ counted down. She had certainly bested him, even if it were by trickery. 

When the DJ declared Meg the winner and she lifted off him, Castiel hastily pulled his jello wet boxers back up his hips and pushed up to his knees. "That wasn't fair, you... " slipping in the jello he fell back on his ass as the woman gloated over him, "... are so immature..." heaving himself up and swaying unsteadily he glared at her, "... you fight dirty."

A broad grin split her face and she slapped him on the upper arm. "Of course I do. Dirty is what wins, baby!"

Castiel gaped at her. He was slightly offended, but he supposed that he had already made a fool of himself stripping down to his boxers to wrestle in a pool of jello. Was baring his ass that much more of an indignity? He had to concede respect for the victor.

But she was already gone, swept in to her group of friends, the other girl she was there with laughing raucously. 

Dean, hair slicked back with jello and a grin plastered on his face, met Castiel at the bar. He tried tugging his pants back on, grimacing and almost toppling over as he attempted to drunkenly balance and get the pants up his sticky legs. 

Benny and Sam made their way over, amused. Dean grabbed his shirt from him as Castiel picked it up. “Go rinse off a little in the bathroom man, just, grab some paper towels and, just, yeah.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Attempting to rinse off in the bar bathroom sink was not a very successful endeavor. Several patrons were also very happy to jibe him for being bested by a woman. Well, they didn’t even throw their hands in, what did they know. At least getting his face scrubbed off, Castiel felt better. 

When he padded - still barefoot - back to the bar he saw that Ruby and Meg had joined his friends there. Sliding on to a stool at the edge of the group, next to Meg, she turned a smile to him. The girls looked about in the same state, mostly dressed but not entirely and still smeared red with jello, their hair knotted up in tangled buns. 

“Well don’t you clean up real purty now.”

Castiel perched on the edge of the stool, holding the bar for balance. “You do this frequently?”

“The wrestling? Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you around here?”

“I’m fairly new to the area, my friends dragged me out tonight.”

“I’m glad they did.”

Castiel blinked at her, mouth open. He was fairly sure that she meant to be flirtatious, but it had been a long long time since a girl flirted with him. Well, she’d already slapped his ass, it couldn’t get much weirder. 

Meg had waved a bar tender down and ordered something for herself. Castiel was contemplating whether it would really be wise for him to continue drinking, when she slid a shot glass over to him. 

“Here, least I can do is buy you a drink for making the night more interesting.”

“Oh, thank you, you don’t have to -“

“See, but I want to. C’mon, drink up, maybe we’ll do some naked wrestling back at my place later.”

That was… definitely a flirtation. A proposition?

Lifting his shot glass in a salute, he knocked back the syrupy and very pungent liquor. Castiel’s nose scrunched as he grimaced, tongue working against his palate to try and rub out the aftertaste. It was like licorice and something else that he didn’t recognize.

"Ungh what was that?"

Meg was beaming at him. "Jaggermeister. I swear, that shit works miracles."

Castiel waved the bartender over and ordered two more. He figured he could use a miracle.


	2. close your eyes and I'll kiss you

Meg paid for a taxi ride back to Cas’ place, he was probably too blitzed to figure out how to put his hand in his pocket and pull out his wallet. It was pretty funny. Drunk sex was not new. Drunk sex with someone about to pass out, that was a bit more of a challenge. But he was hot. Challenge totally accepted. Even if she had to settle for a ride on his face cause drunk dicks don’t always work, Meg would be perfectly content with that. 

The car ride mostly consisted of the driver rolling his eyes at them in the mirror as Cas draped himself across her and Meg picked jello out of his hair. Hey, she left a good tip, she wasn’t a complete bitch. They bumbled into his condo building, Meg misunderstood his directions and they stumbled down the wrong floor looking for his condo. They accidentally woke up a very nice - very hot - neighbor - trying to unlock his door. After a lot of stumbling, laughing, drunken fun they got to Cas’ place and tried to wedge themselves inside the door at the same time. 

Swaying, still covered and sticky with jello residue, once they were inside Meg shoved Cas back against the door and kissed him. Once he was still for a few seconds, he seemed to get his bearings back a little. He kissed back kinda shy, cradling her face and pulling back when she got a little too eager with tongue. Every time she pushed, he pulled back a little. But every time she retreated he leaned forward. So he didn’t do this a whole lot, there was always time to learn and Meg did not mind teaching. 

Panting, legs slotted together, hands braced on the door beside him, Meg smiled up at his bobbing head. 

“Come on, you can give a girl more than just the tip huh?”

“You really want to?”

“What?”

“You want to - ah - we just met, you want to - “

“Fuck your brains out?”

He tittered like a schoolgirl. “Yeah.”

“Oh I do.”

Pressing herself against him, clothes sticking to skin and dragging uncomfortably, Meg slid a hand between them to knead his crotch. 

“I’ve already had you on your knees pants down once tonight, we should do that again.”

He nodded, looking a bit stupefied. “You, uh, but what - wha - “

Scrunching up his nose, he squinted at her and the look of concentration on his face was comical. Until he lined his hands up on her hips, grabbed tight and spun her around to slam against the kitchen wall next to the door. Looming over her, he dipped down and kissed her silly. Hot and open mouthed, sweet cherry jello taste tongue to tongue, he was grinding his hips against her as he kissed so lewd it was more like fucking his tongue into her mouth. 

The technique could use a little work, but Meg was definitely on board with this. She could feel the hard line of his cock pressed against her hip when she tipped up on her toes and pulled his body closer, necks stretched out to suck on each other’s tongues. Fuck but he had a nice plush set of lips. 

Pulling back, panting, he swayed in front of her. “We should, uh we’re both very…. sticky…,” he fucking giggled, “do you want to take a shower first?”

Meg, sliding her hands up under his shirt, considered this a minute. Drunk slippery wet shower sex sounded like a very bad idea. It also sounded like an excellent idea. 

“Let’s shower together.”

He nodded and tugged her down the hallway. Meg kind of paid attention to her surroundings. At least enough to figure out ‘kitchen’, ‘living room’, ‘wall’. She couldn’t give two shits about his decorative habits. 

The bathroom was small. Bumping elbows and awkwardly groping each other as they undressed, they left their clothes strewn on the floor as they hopped in to the shower. Jesus, she always forgot how clammy and icky the jello made her skin feel. Of course, she was usually plastered and then usually proceeded to get stickier with sweat and other body fluids. 

The hot water sluicing down her body felt fucking amazing. Pulling her tangled hair apart with her fingers as Castiel fiddled with the shower dial, Meg scrubbed her eyes and blinked through the spray at him. Dark hair flattened against his head and cheeks pink, the small light inside the shower made his body angular with shadows. 

“You’re very colorful.”

“Huh?”

“Your tattoos. I like them. They’re colorful.”

He was leaning against the shower wall watching her. Meg flipped her hair back and leaned away from the spray. She arched her chest out and turned under the water so it channeled down between her breasts. Yep. He was so easy. His gaze trailed down in the dimly lit shower and he actually licked his lips. It was kind of adorable. 

Tugging him forward, Meg pushed Cas under the shower spray. He had said he liked her tattoos, but he didn’t say anything about her scars so she wouldn’t say anything about his. Honestly who wouldn’t be curious? She hadn’t noticed them in the bar, bad lighting and red jello and all that, but the whole side of him was smattered with puckered criss crossed scarring. 

Ok, so Meg knew a few things about herself. She liked mystery. She liked the dangerous bad boy stereotype. There was something about him she wanted to know, that she felt she did know, she just didn’t know what yet. Maybe part of it was the drinking, but it was just easier to connect to people physically and feel like you could really get them, like they got you. Even if it was only a small part of you. 

His hands lingered on her hips as she raked her nails through his hair, washing out all the jello. Lips on her neck, gentle and light, he was stooped down so she could help wash him. It was mostly just rinsing. They staid under the shower spray, touching and kissing and letting the pink tinted water swirl down the drain until it ran clear and cold. 

Castiel twisted to turn the water dial off. He slapped at it, half twisted back around to her, lurched to the side and grabbed the shower curtain. It happened too fast for Meg to really understand what exactly it was that was happening until the shower curtain clips were snapping off and the rod was coming down, Castiel falling forward and trying to catch himself. He ended up one foot out of the tub, one in it, twisting around as Meg reached for his slippery skin. With a loud thunk and a sick crack, his journey ended on the corner of the bathroom sink. 

Oh shit. 

Meg, stupefied and not firing on all cylinders - at least she wasn’t as drunk as him - stumbled out of the bath. There was blood on the sink and Cas was crumpled on the floor. Untangling him from the plastic shower curtain, she pushed him up to sitting and slapped his face. Blood was flowing fast down one side and there as a nasty gash across his forehead. 

“Cas! Cas hey!”

Glassy blue eyes blinked open and blinked again, squinting, mouth turning down into a frown. 

“Daphne I think I fell.”

“What? Yeah, yeah you fell, hey, come on focus.”

Holding his face carefully in both hands, the spike of adrenaline had served to sober her up minimally. Well, it didn’t really sober her up in the sense of blood alcohol content, but it helped focus. Meg knew what to do. She was a nurse. She could handle this. Wouldn’t be the first injury during sex she’d been part of, though there usually wasn’t so much blood, and they hadn’t done this on purpose. And they didn’t actually get to have sex yet. 

Still holding him up, she reached to the standing cupboard in the bathroom that was only an arms length away - tiny, tiny bathroom - and pulled out a clean towel. Pressing it to his forehead, Cas winced and Meg brought one of his hands up to hold it. 

“Hey, you have to hold that there for me. Press hard on it. I know it hurts, but just, keep that there ok?”

He sniffled and held up the towel. Meg stood and rummaged through the vanity cupboard for any kind of first aid kit. She doubted she’d find a suture kit, and was probably too drunk, but maybe the gash wasn’t that bad and would only require cleaning up and butterfly bandages. If he had those. 

Finding gauze, rubbing alcohol - no where near as good as iodine, it only pushed bacteria around, really, didn’t actually kill it - and different kinds of bandages, Meg wet another clean towel at the sink and crouched on the floor in front of him. 

“How you doing there?”

“My head hurts.”

“Yeah. You took a fall. Here let me see.”

Lowering the bloody towel, Meg carefully cleaned the wound with the wet towel she had. The blood wasn’t coagulating fast enough, the cut was too wide and too deep, it kept on bleeding as she tried to clean it. 

“I’m going to clean it but you have to stay very very still.”

Cupping her hand over his eye, she carefully poured rubbing alcohol over the cut. He flinched and squinted at her harder. With it at least minimally clean, Meg pressed a wad of gauze to the area because it was way too big for a bandage, and had him hold the gauze there while she wrapped an ace bandage around his head to keep it there. Making it tight enough to put pressure on and not too tight, Meg secured the ace bandage and patted his shoulder. 

“Not too bad, we need to get you to the ER to get some stitches though.”

“Who’s going to take care of Fish while I’m gone?”

“I’m sure the fish will be fine, we won’t be gone long.”

His eyes were getting all watery like he was about to start crying and _that_ Meg did not want to deal with. Heaving his naked, still wet self up - crap she was naked too and all her clothes were sticky with jello - Meg tugged him out in to the hallway and headed in the opposite direction of the kitchen to find his bedroom.

Depositing him on the bed, she went back to the bathroom to find her phone and call a cab service while she dressed him. Borrowing a pair of his pajamas, plaid sleeping plants and a t-shirt with some kind of gardening center logo on it - Meg got them both clothed while she babbled to him, trying to engage him, keep him awake. He probably had a concussion. Although he didn’t have to stay up all night for that like people used to think, she still wasn’t certain what was wrong and she was drunk too so, yeah not too good. Plus, a head injury could really go a lot of ways. 

He started rambling about flowers when he noticed the logo on her shirt. 

Blood was starting to seep through the ace bandage. Stitches were definitely going to happen tonight. Barefoot, Meg heaved him to mostly standing up right and they stumbled their way back downstairs to wait outside for the cab. 

The harsh fluorescent light of the E.R. waiting room, the squeak of sneakers on linoleum, the teal vinyl covered chairs that were definitely not designed for hours long waiting, it was a familiar environment to Meg. This hospital E.R. in particular. Cas happened to live closest to Summa, where Meg worked as an R.N. At least some of the faces were familiar, if curious.

She left Cas slumped over on a seat while she dug through his wallet for ID and an insurance card. She picked out a credit card at random to pay with. Taking the intake papers on the ubiquitous brown clipboard back to where he had leaned back in the seat with a hand on the bloody bandage around his head, Meg nudged his foot when she sat down.

"Hey, I'm gonna need your help on the paperwork."

Big blue eyes blinked around and he groaned. "Where am I?"

"Emergency room, you split your forehead open."

He looked over at her, squinting. "Daphne when'd you dye your hair?"

"I'm Meg."

"Meg?"

"Yeah I kicked your ass at jello wrestling earlier. You remember?"

"You have pretty hair."

"Thanks. So. Allergies?"

She didn't really manage to get much useful information out of Cas. Meg made sure to put down that he was intoxicated. Hell, she still was by a good ways herself. After she'd scribbled what she could on the sheet Meg took it back up to the receptionist and grabbed a bottle of water from a vending machine before settling back down with Cas to wait.

There was an older lady with an oxygen tank hacking up a lung across the wait room from them. A middle aged guy, lean, was clutching an arm to his chest with a grimace on his face while he waited. A blond mother had a child in her lap, a hand on the kid's forehead. All in all it didn’t look too busy, especially for a Friday night. But they were several hours past bar closing when the rush usually hit, the time going on nearly five a.m. 

Slumping into the hard chair next to Cas, Meg considered texting Ruby or snooping through his wallet for more information when Cas leaned against her and started talking again. 

"D'you get a new perfume Daphne?"

"Oh for fucks sake. Who is Daphne anyway?"

He pushed up and looked at her.

"Yeah, hi, Meg here. You should have some water."

Passing him the water bottle, Cas seemed to perk up a little.

"Seriously, who's Daphne? You keep talking about her.”

He looked around, seeming to take in his surroundings, the fact that he was really not where he should be or where he expected to be.

Quietly, looking down at his lap he muttered, "Daphne was my wife."

"Was?"

"I've been divorced about a year."

"Oh."

"I'm, sorry, I can't remember what's happening."

"Yeah you've probably got a pretty nasty concussion. And you’re fucking drunk.”

"My head hurts."

"You fell on your fucking bathroom sink."

"We're at the hospital?"

"Yeah."

He nodded and finished his water, watching nurses pop up at the swinging double doors to call patients back, waiting. New ones appeared through the entry doors, signing up at the front desk and carrying their clipboards back to their chairs. An ambulance screeched to a stop outside the glass doors and a gurney was wheeled in with someone strapped to it, straight through the doors to the back.

He was tipping forward in his seat, hands clasped in his lap, so Meg curled an arm around his shoulders to make sure he didn’t fall on his face. He blinked at her, blue eyes unfocused, but didn’t say anything else. 

"Novak!"

Cas startled and sat up.

"Castiel Novak!"

Novak. Meg hadn't really bothered to notice his last name. She stood with him, made her way back and followed the nurse disappearing down the corridor to an area where beds were set up with just curtain partitions separating them.

"What's your relation?"

Meg sat heavily in the chair by the bed where Cas was perched.

"No relation, I was with him when the accident happened."

"Only family members are allowed back - “

"Hey, look, he's kind of out of it, he's pretty drunk, so I can help fill in some of the blanks ok?"

The nurse looked at her, lips pursed. She wasn't someone Meg recognized, but it was a large hospital and there were people coming and going all the time. Meg probably didn’t belong back here with him and she shouldn’t be according to hospital policy, but no one liked to deal with incoherent drunks on Friday night. 

The nurse sighed and rolled her eyes, ”All right."

She moved on to taking vitals, jotting notes down on her chart and asking questions as she went. Meg answered to the best of her ability when Cas checked out again and started talking about bees. At least she was pretty sure that it wasn’t serious head damage so much as him being really really drunk. Pretty sure. 

The nurse checked Meg’s make-shift patch job and got Cas settled before scurrying off and telling them to wait for a doctor. When Cas rolled over on his bed and started telling Meg how much he loved her - while still calling her Daphne - she had to take off for a breather. 

Covering him with a blanket and telling him to rest and stay put, he seemed docile enough so Meg decided to find some coffee. She was definitely not drunk anymore. At least she already knew where the coffee machines were. Weaving through familiar hallways, Meg found the closest machine and slotted her quarters in to get a sugary cup of bitter, shitty coffee. It was better than nothing. 

Waiting for the machine to make it, the loud hum noisy in the near empty hallway so late at night, Meg didn’t look up when she heard sneakers squeaking along the linoleum until someone stopped next to her. 

“Meg? You’re not on shift are you?”

Looking up, she found the smiling face of Eve hovering beside her.

“No, no I was just bringing a friend in. Hit his head.”

“Oh that’s no good. How do you keep ending up breaking boys?”

“Ah fuck off Eve.”

“Girls are hardier, you should just stick to our side.”

Eve nudged her playfully and Meg might have hit that at one point but at least she hadn’t by the time she found out how fuck ass crazy Eve was. 

“I don’t fuck people from work, personal rule.”

“Except for Ruby?”

Meg shrugged and grabbed her hot cardboard cup of coffee. “Well, that happened before work, so it doesn’t count.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Well I gotta keep going, I’ll catch you later. I hope your friend is okay!”

“Thanks Eve, I hope your night doesn’t suck too much.”

Meg snorted in to her coffee cup as she walked back to Cas’ room. The doctor was already there by the time she got back, sewing up his forehead. She had seen his face around a few times, he was new and young and had that disgustingly chipper ‘I can fix the world’ attitude about him. At least he could do a damn neat row of sutures. 

Once Cas had been patched up and discharged, Meg called for another cab. He fell asleep curled up on his side on one of the wide benches in the ER waiting room. Meg found a 'People' magazine to keep her company while they waited. He was still slurring and incoherent when Meg roused him to drag him to the cab. She figured she could at least take him back up to his condo, although she wasn't too sure if she wanted to split after that or pass out on his couch.

Probably the couch. It would be a good idea to keep an eye on him. Plus, she was still a little drunk herself and fucking tired. Cas managed to pass out during the cab ride home, too, falling against her shoulder and leaving a little wet patch of drool.

The cab driver asked if she needed any help getting him upstairs. Meg just paid him and dragged Cas out of the cab.

"C'mon big guy, I can't carry you the whole way, you gotta put in the code."

She smacked Cas once across the face when he slumped against her. He punched in the keypad code for the building and together they stumbled towards the elevators. Meg still had his keys in her pocket, the two of them nearly falling down on their way into the condo. She got him down the hallway and he flopped sideways on the bed. Good enough. Pulling his shoes off she threw a blanket on top of him.

"G'tta feed fish."

"What?"

"Fish. Needs's food."

"I didn't see any fish in here."

Meg rolled her eyes when he started snoring and pulled a pillow to his chest to cuddle. She padded quietly down to his kitchen and found a glass, filling it with water and stopping at the bathroom to search for a bottle of aspirin in his medicine cabinet. Taking a few herself, she set the water and the whole pill bottle on the bedside table for Cas to find when he woke up. He was catty corner in the bed, tangled in blankets and snoring lightly.

He'd be fine. In the meantime, for her troubles, Meg decided to raid his fridge. She wasn't going anywhere else for the night, he probably wouldn't mind her crashing on his couch. The plan had been to sleep together, and although sometimes she liked to slink off into the night afterward, she usually staid around till to morning to at least mooch some breakfast off them. Might as well get a head start on that.

His fridge was full of sickeningly healthy food. Ungh. There wasn't even any pop, but he did have some beer. Meg pulled one out and rifled through his cupboards, coming out triumphant with a pack of HoHo's that looked like it had been forgotten in the back of a cupboard years ago. Treats in hand, she was ready to retire to the couch when a fat orange tabby started rubbing against her legs.

"Hey kitty kitty, didn't see you here before."

It meowed at her, jumping up on the counter top to bat at one of the cupboards. Meg set her food down and scratched behind the cats ears, who head-butted into her hand and meowed louder. The cat had a collar on with tags, a little red heart that declared him 'Goldfish'. The cat was Fish. 

This Cas guy was fucking weird.

Meg opened the cupboard the cat seemed fixated on, finding a container of cat food there. Feed the fish. Yeah, sure. She picked up a bowl from the strainer by the sink and poured a generous amount of kibble in for the cat, setting it on the floor.

Cat fed, human passed out in his bed, Meg took her pilfered HoHo's and beer and made herself comfy on the couch. Good God but it was a hideous couch. She might not even be able to sleep on it, it would just burn through her eyelids to imprint itself on her retina. 

Getting out her cell phone, Meg finally texted Ruby while she ate her snack. It was getting so late that it was early, the clouds in the sky all limned in pink and through the massive windows in the living room Meg could watch the little suburban neighborhood behind a stretch of woods starting to wake up. There were joggers out and about, pushing strollers and running behind dogs on leashes. 

Meg closed the curtains after sending off a text. 

**M:** _where you at?_

She wasn’t even sure if Ruby was still awake. Covering her legs with a blanket, the cat jumped on her lap and circled around a few times before finding a spot and kneading her thighs. Purring happily, Meg finished a beer while she pet the ‘fish’. 

 **R:** _i can't feel my legs anymore_

Meg was pretty sure that couldn’t be too serious. 

 **M:** _???_

 **R:** _so i went home with that guy sam right_

 **M:** _yeah_

She could vaguely remember the other guys from Cas’ group of friends at the bar. Sam was the tall one with the pretty hair, maybe, or he was the one that had been wrestling with Cas. Although, that guy had been hanging off another cute guys’ arms. Eh, Sam was one of them and they were all hot. 

 **R:** _holy shit his cock is even bigger than you would think_

 **M:** _nice_

 **R:** _i might just want to keep this one_

 **R:** _you went home with that guy you were wrestling right?_

 **M:** _cas_

 **M:** _and yeah_

 **R:** _how's he in bed_

 **M:** _asleep_

 **R:** _ha_

 **M:** _no seriously hes sleeping right now he cracked his head on the sink before we even got to sex and i had to take him to the er for stitches_

 **R:** _HAHAHA_

 **M:** _yeahyeah laugh it up_

_**R:** you still at his place?_

**M:** _yeah figured id keep an eye on him im not sure how concussed or drunk he is_

 **R:** _aw slut with a heart of gold_

 **M:** _fuck you_

 **R:** _maybe later_

 **R:** _sams getting out of the shower and i am up for round three_

 **M:** _thought you said you couldnt feel your legs_

 **R:** _dont need them if im on my back_

 **M:** _have fun w that_

Meg tossed her phone on the coffee table with the wrinkled HoHo wrappers and finished her beer. Bending forward just enough so she wouldn't disturb the cat, she set the empty beer bottle on the floor. Propping her feet up on the table, wrapping a blanket that had been folded on the back of the couch around her shoulders, she pet the cat tiredly as her eyes started to droop. His purr was a loud rumble in the quiet foreign space.

There was always a strange kind of feeling in these sort of moments that Meg liked. It was almost as if she was borrowing someone else's life to be her own for a little while. Strange couch, strange cat, strange books on the shelves across from her that flanked the strange TV. She had no idea who Cas was, not really - he was a stranger - but she made up stories about him based off the things she saw around his condo. He seemed like a lonely kind of guy out of his element. Probably too nice for his own good. Still hung up on Daphne, but people usually stay hung up on parts of their lives like that whether they want to or not.

Somehow, she was more comfortable in other people's spaces than in her own. Meg fell asleep on his couch, cat curled in her lap, the world a quiet place.


	3. soft spoken with a broken jaw

Castiel didn't want to open his eyes and acknowledge consciousness. His head felt absolutely excruciating. Although he'd had hang overs before he had never experienced something quite like this. Usually, after a night of over indulgence in alcohol, his head felt swollen and heavy, often accompanied by a steady pressure behind his forehead.

His forehead felt split open this morning. There was an aching burn when he tried to bury his face in the pillow and go back to sleep. One eye at a time, he peeled them open, reaching up to rub the crust of sleep away. Daylight hurt even more. Why did he do this to himself.

There was a glass of water and the aspirin bottle on the night stand. Odd. Pitifully shoving himself up to sitting with a groan, it took Castiel a few shaky tries to open the bottle of aspirin and tip two, three, four, into his palm. He had never felt this out of sorts after a night of drinking. Of course there had been the wrestling too. That was most likely why his entire body ached as well. Even his toes were sore.

After the bar, everything was a bit blurry to non-existent. He wasn't completely new to 'black out' drunk, but it very rarely happened. Stumbling out of bed, Castiel tried to remember if Dean had brought him home or if he'd taken a taxi. He had at least changed into clean pajamas.

Leaning against the hallway wall as he made his way to the bathroom, Castiel froze in the doorway. There was red stained clothes piled on the floor. The shower curtain was ripped off. Was that blood on the sink?

In a state of shock, he stumbled further in to the bathroom. Those weren't all his clothes. When he caught sight of his pale reflection, bruises under his eyes, wrinkles in his face from his sheets, Castiel saw the bandage across his forehead. What had happened?

Leaning over the sink, he tenderly grasped a corner of the bandage and tugged lightly. It was nearly straight in the middle of his forehead. The skin tugged as he peeled it off, setting his head to feeling like it was split open again. There was a row of dark stitches with dried blood flaking in a few areas across his forehead.

_What had happened?_

Castiel nearly jumped a foot in the air when he heard something clatter in the kitchen. At first, the small rustling sounds he had heard, he had assumed were the cat. But that was not a cat. There was more than his clothes on the bathroom floor. Jello. They were red from jello.

He remembered the brunette with the brightly tattooed skin and the wicked smile. Had he brought her home?

Castiel nudged the clothes to the side with his foot and lifted the toilet seat to relieve his bladder. Washing his hands and splashing cold water on his face, he took a deep breath and wandered down the hallway to the kitchen. He did indeed vaguely recognize the woman who had her back to him at the cutting board.

Scratching his jaw, Castiel squinted at her and tried to recall the events that had transpired last night more thoroughly. They had come home together. Ah, he fell in the shower. Very dignified. His memory, however, was well and truly blank after that.

She had long brown hair that went to her waist, tangled and messy. She was wearing his pajamas. Fish was sitting on the island keeping her company. She started humming as she worked, chopping vegetables it looked like.

Castiel had never done this before. He had never in his life had a one night stand. He wasn't even entirely sure if they had slept together. Oh God he didn't even remember her name. Shuffling nervously forward in the kitchen, his cat saw him and jumped off the counter to rub between his legs. She turned around at the noise the cat made.

"Well look at you. Not dead after all."

His shirt was loose enough on her small frame that it hung off a shoulder.

"Uh. No."

The cat was meowing at him. Castiel took one step closer, squinted at her. She set down the knife and leaned forward on her elbows on the island between them. The shirt of his that she wore hung down enough he saw her breasts underneath it, no bra. Castiel felt his cheeks flush. She was smiling at him.

"Wow. You look really uncomfortable right now."

He frowned, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"What, making you uncomfortable?" Pushing off the counter, she shrugged one shoulder. "I might be. A little."

"So - uh...."

"Meg."

"What?"

"I figure you don't know my name and you don't know how to ask. It's Meg."

"Oh. Good morning Meg."

"Hey Clarence."

"It's Castiel."

Meg burst into laughter and turned away from him.

"Yeah, I know, I'm just fucking with you."

Somewhat more at ease - at least he knew her name - Castiel dared to venture deeper into his own kitchen.

"What are you making?"

"Breakfast."

"What are you making for breakfast?”

"Scrambled eggs. Figure you’d like anything you've got in your fridge."

He rounded the island and stood several feet away from her. She was chopping mushrooms, a green bell pepper, onion. That did sound like a delicious scramble.

"Thank you. You don't have to make breakfast."

"I was hungry and you were still passed out."

"What happened last night?"

She finished chopping the pepper and washed her hands at the sink, coming to stand in front of him.

"You tripped in the shower and fell on the sink. Here...." Castiel almost flinched when she took his face in her hands, pulling him closer down to her level and peering at his stitches. "Those look pretty good."

She let him go and turned away, rummaging through all of his cupboards. Castiel went to the one by the stove and took a skillet out for her.

He asked, "I meant, what happened after I injured myself?”

She started cracking eggs into a bowl. Castiel passed her a whisk.

"Called a cab and took you to the hospital."

"You took me to the hospital? And came back with me? And stayed?"

This all seemed very strange.

"Yeah, well, not my most successful not-quite one night stand ever, but it was eventful."

There was something nice about the fact that she voluntarily had stayed with him. Or perhaps it should be creepy. Castiel thought it was nice.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For taking care of me."

Meg turned the stove on and cut a chunk of butter into the skillet. It was a lot of butter. Castiel tried to stay out of her way; he was still feeling woozy.

She waved him off, "Yeah don't worry about it, I feel kind of responsible for getting you drunk and dragging you into the shower."

"Did we.... uh..."

Meg looked over at him with one finely shaped eyebrow curved up, "You trying to ask if we fucked Cas?"

He looked down at his feet.

"I saw your dick in the shower but I didn't get to have any fun with it. After we got back from the hospital, I raided your kitchen and fell asleep on the couch with your cat."

"Oh."

Fish didn't usually like company.

The eggs sizzled when Meg poured them into the skillet, scooping minced vegetables in with them.

"By the way, why the fuck is your cat named Goldfish?"

"That's a bit of a long story."

The cat was perched back on the island, watching them. Meg scrambled the eggs in the skillet, and turned to lean back against the counter.

"Yeah? So, spill."

Castiel went to the other side of the island and sat on one of the stools, scratching the cat under his chin.

"I don't know if I told you last night that I was married for a while, I just got divorced a year ago."

Meg was grinning at him again. "Oh yeah. You kept calling me Daphne last night."

Castiel thumped his head against the table in mortification, immediately regretting it when his forehead exploded.

"Ow. Did I?"

"Oh my god you kept asking when I died my hair, Daphne, where are we Daphne."

"I am so sorry."

"Don't be. So. You named a cat Fish. What the fuck?"

"Right. After the divorce, I moved in with a co-worker and a good friend, Hannah. I quit work not long after the divorce, too, lived off savings. Hannah didn't have pets, or want them. I was living in her guest room. It was, maybe a month after the divorce, I had gone out to get groceries - I walked, the store was about fifteen minutes away. There was a kid with a box of kittens in front of a house. I just wanted to stop and say hi. But, they were so cute. There was this little orange tabby that fell asleep in my arms. I couldn't walk away. I called Hannah, and I asked her if she'd let me have a goldfish. I am certain that she suspected I wasn't being entirely innocent. She agreed, however, that a fish would be acceptable. So I named the kitten Goldfish and took him home."

"Oh my god you are an asshole."

"I... was a little off center after the divorce."

"That's a fucking dick move man. And your friend was nice enough to let you keep it?"

"Yes."

Meg rolled her eyes, turning back to the stove to finish scrambling the eggs, dishing them out onto two plates.

"Hey, I couldn't find your coffee pot."

"I don't have a coffee pot."

She rounded on him.

"What?"

"I'm a tea drinker."

"Oh there is something wrong with you.”

Castiel may have cringed a little for how Meg was glaring at him. 

“I have a lot of different kinds of tea. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Castiel worked around her as he filled the electric kettle with water and pulled down a few boxes of tea to ask what she would like.They ate breakfast around snippets of conversation. Meg helped fill in the gaps from last night - and there were plenty of gaps. Castiel would be embarrassed for making such an ass of himself, but Meg was amused as she smiled widely and shoved his shoulder.

Unfortunately, she had work to be at that day. Her clothes were still sticky and dirty with the jello. Castiel offered to let her borrow any of his clothes. She gathered up her things in a messy bag as they trailed through the condo finding where everything was dropped and flung. 

Meg was a very lively person, and she had a sense of crass humor unlike anyone Castiel knew. She touched easily, hands lingering on his arm, hips bumping, and pulled him down for a kiss when everything was gathered and they stood at the door. 

He told her, “I’d like to see you again next week.”

Threading his fingers through her hair, Castiel kissed her between words. 

“Is that so?” Meg’s lips curled up in a smile. 

“Yes. Let me take you to dinner.”

“Gotta say, I’m not really relationship material. I don’t do dates.”

She still kissed him back. He asked, “Do you want to see me?”

“Sure. But I’m more of a beer and pizza and banging on the couch kind of gal.”

“I like beer and pizza.”

“And the couch?”

“What do you have against my couch?”

She looked over her shoulder back to living room area and raised an eyebrow at the couch. “Are you kidding? Do you have eyes? That thing is hideous.”

“And why would having sex on it make it any better?”

Tipping her head back, she laughed and shrugged. “Good memories, I guess.”

Castiel hummed and let his hands stay on her waist instead of reaching for the door. He was flattered she would assume they’d be good memories. A nice date out, a casual evening in, he didn’t really mind the options. He wasn’t very good at either. So whatever she was comfortable with was fine with him. 

A small - but very strong - hand swatted his ass. “All right, stop tempting me, I gotta get my car from the bar and go home for my scrubs before work. Here,” she pressed her cell phone in to his hand, “Put your number in there, I’ll call you, we’ll hang out next Friday.”

“I’d like that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Castiel liked his job at the Gas n’ Sip. It was an adequate income combined with his savings. It was a location near enough to his condo to bike in to work. His co-workers were nice. It was easy. After the stress and responsibility of a managerial position, the simplicity of his work as a gas station clerk was something that highly appealed to Castiel. 

Stocking shelves, he found, was actually somewhat therapeutic. It was meditative. He liked to make neat orderly rows of their merchandise. It wasn’t as though they had a lot of variety on the shelves, being a small convenience store. There were stacks of red and white Campbell soup labels that reminded him of Warhol. He balanced the Ramen packets in tidy columns. Arranged the meager offering of fresh fruit - bananas, oranges and apples - in the end cap basket display. The automotive section was always stocked.

He took pride in his work. In keeping the store organized so that people could find exactly what they needed quickly. It might not be glamorous work, but even the smallest lowest positions had their place. People needed service workers, even if quite a lot of people looked down on them. 

The one difficult thing about his job was the damn Slurpee machine. He swore that thing was sentient and had a vendetta against him. It always broke when Castiel was opening the store. It never broke on Nora. Of course, Castiel usually was the one to open the store, despite the fact that Nora was the manager. She was a single mother, and Castiel understood how difficult that must be. He didn’t mind helping where he could. His only responsibility, really, was his cat. 

After mopping blue slush off the floor, getting the machine set up properly, checking the coffee carafes and idling over the front page of the newspaper, Castiel set to stocking the coolers. The store wasn’t very busy when it first opened, but around seven a.m. the morning crowd hit for coffee. Every time the bell jangled, Castiel made his way to the counter, alternating between stocking and checking out customers. 

Humming to himself as he lined potato chip bags neatly upright, he heard the bell jingle and turned to make for the register. 

“It’s just me!”

Nora sounded as flustered as she usually did. 

“Good morning Nora.”

“Hey Castiel, sorry I’m late.”

“It’s all right.”

They talked over the shelves as she clocked in and stashed her purse in the break room in the back. Eventually, Nora appeared at the end of the aisle.

“Emily hurled her breakfast all over the kitchen floor this morning and at first I was worried she was sick but then - oh my goodness Castiel are you all right?”

Looking up from where he was crouched near the floor Castiel simply replied, “Hm?”

“Your forehead, gosh what happened?”

“Oh. That.”

Right. How could he forget the bandage across his forehead. It still stung. Standing up, Nora swatted his shoulder playfully. 

“What did you get in a fight or something?”

Her voice was teasing. She usually made fun - in a jovial manner - of Castiel’s apparent lack of background, or willingness to share one. 

“I got in a fight with my bathroom sink.”

“Ouch. Slip in the tub?”

“I may have been drunk.”

“Oh? So you do know how to have fun. Or was it the sad kind of drinking alone in the dark?”

Castiel shrugged, uncertain why Nora was always so interested in his life outside the gas station. But, she plied the customers for gossip as well. There were some regulars that would dawdle at the counter when there were no lines and chat with Nora for an hour. She liked talking to everyone, about everything. 

“My friends took me out drinking the other night.”

“Good. I’m glad you do get out. You know sometimes I swear it’s like you live here. I mean, not that I don’t appreciate what you do here, you work really hard. But you need your own life. That’s good.”

“It was a very interesting night.”

“Really? Well dish, I want to know what’s behind that quiet front of yours.”

Castiel was, mercifully, rescued from having to go in to details when the door bell jingled and Nora huffed a sigh in frustration before turning for the register. The morning rush started, and by the time it was over the conversation was forgotten.

It was bit late on Wednesday, but Castiel had been busy nervously rearranging everything in his condo. Then putting everything back to exactly where it had been. Organizing his shelves. Then deciding they were too unnaturally organized and picking out a few books to strew on the coffee table. 

Fish knew something was up. The cat had been weaving in between his legs all night getting in his way. Eventually Castiel gave up his anxious tidying as he played on a loop all the things that could go wrong Friday. Meg hadn’t even called him. Of course, he hadn’t called her either. He wouldn’t know what to say and it was only a week. But he found himself curious about the smallest things, like whether she flossed regularly, what her comfort food was, if she liked ballet. 

Rolling his eyes at himself, Castiel settled on the couch with a cup of chamomile tea and the cat. Fish seemed much happier to curl in his lap and relax. He really should get to bed soon, it was just past midnight. 

There was a loud buzzing of his phone vibrating on the wood coffee table. Strange. He didn’t text often with Dean, and certainly not this late. Castiel set his tea down and reached for his phone. 

Swiping it on, he dropped the phone on his cat - who only squeaked and cast an indignant look his way. There was a picture of Meg on his phone. In her underwear. It was a shot down her body that looked to have been taken around her neck. Accentuating the swell of her cleavage and the lack of her clothing. 

 **M:** _so im bored and cant sleep_

 **C:** _Try a glass of warm milk._

****M:**  ** _you know what always helps me fall asleep?_

**C:** _Meditation?_

****M:**  ** _masturbation_

**C:** _Oh._

****M:**  ** _you dont really do this much do you_

**C:** _What?_

 ** **M:**  ** _sexting_

 **C:** _I’ve never ‘sexted’ with anyone before._

 ****M:** ** _ill walk you through it_

 **C:** _I’m not very comfortable with this._

 **C:** _Tell me about your day?_

 ****M:** ** _seriously??_

 **C:** _Yes_

**C:** _Please_

****M:**  ** _sorry_

 ** **M:**  ** _we got a kid today that had shoved 11 mms up his nose_

 **C:** _mms?_

 ****M:** ** _like the candy_

 ** **M:**  ** _it was pretty gross_

 **C:** _That sounds unpleasant._

 ** **M:**  ** _what about you where do you work_

 **C:** _At the Gasnsip_

 ** **M:**  ** _yeah?_

 **C:** _It’s not very glamorous_

 **C:** _I bike home from work and there’s a path along the canal_

 **C:** _I saw a mother duck and she had seven babies with her all in a perfect line_

 ** **M:**  ** _ducks?_

 **C:** _They were very cute._

 ** **M:**  ** _pics?_

 **C:** _I didn’t take any._

****M:**** _if I’m not getting dick pics you could at least send me duck pics ;)_

**C:** _I’ll make sure to take a photo if I see them again._

****M:**  **K 

**M:** _ill txt you fri_

**M:** _night_

**C:** _Goodnight_

Castiel stared at his phone in his hand for a moment, tapping his fingers along the edge. Meg was still coming over Friday. She was coming over and had explicitly stated the nature of what she expected from him. He could appreciate the honesty. But it did make him nervous to think about meeting those expectations. He wasn’t very experienced. Meg seemed like the sort of person who was. 

Setting his phone on the table, Castiel picked at a piece of stuffing that was coming out of the couch where Fish had scratched it. 

The couch wasn’t that ugly. 

Nora was right. Castiel didn’t have very many friends and he spent too much time at work. Perhaps his dedication to work was not so much a sense of duty but an avoidance of his life outside of work. Work had rules to follow, it was simple. Outside of work was an entirely different matter. 

He needed to rectify that. He needed to spend more time with Dean, Benny and Sam. Castiel also kept up - very sparingly - with Hannah through e-mail and the occasional Skype session. Their schedules didn’t synch up very well for frequent Skype chats, but it was always pleasant to see her face. 

Castiel made sure to send her an email when he got home from work. She always responded faster to him than he did to her, for which Castiel sometimes felt guilty. But Hannah never mentioned it or pestered him. He really should make the effort to be a better friend to her, albeit a long distance friend. 

Over the following day and a handful of emails they set up a time to Skype. Hannah knew that he appreciated having the advanced notice.

Thursday night, a little nervous for his not quite a date with Meg the following day, found Castiel pacing and waiting for his tea to steep while the minutes ticked closer to the promised time for chatting with Hannah. Settling down at his computer with tea, Castiel tried to pat down his messy hair before turning on Skype. Hannah was already there, smiling. Her house was bright and clean behind her, the robin’s egg blue window curtains billowing with a breeze in the living room he was familiar with. 

“Hello Castiel.”

“Hello Hannah. How are you?”

“I’m well. What happened to your forehead?”

Always with the forehead. Castiel couldn’t remember how many times he’d been asked about that in the past week. The bandage had come off, but he still had the stitches in. He’d have to go back to the hospital in one more week’s time to have them taken out. 

“Ah. I didn’t tell you about that in an e-mail did I?”

“No, you failed to mention it.”

“It was an accident.”

“Well I hope you’re all right.”

“I am, thank you.”

Fish was interested in greeting Hannah as well. Castiel wondered if the cat remembered his early childhood at Hannah’s. The tabby was sitting on the floor politely patting Castiel’s leg, asking to be let up. Scooting his tea to a safer location on the computer desk, he picked up the cat and held him up to the screen. 

“Fish wants to say hi too.”

Castiel could tell that Hannah was holding back a laugh as she lifted her hand and waved. 

“Hello Fish.”

Taking one of his docile cat’s front legs, Castiel waved back. Fish flopped back in his arms and contentedly curled up as they continued their conversation. 

“I know you miss the cat Hannah.”

“I miss him more than I miss you, you’re too much of a trouble maker.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you going to tell me about your accident?”

Rubbing his cat’s belly, who was always fifty/fifty on that particular attention, Castiel found himself smiling. He wanted to talk about Meg, he was nervous about seeing her again. It was silly, to find himself so fixated on a person he had met just a week ago. But honestly? He hadn’t thought about much else all week. 

“I may have met a person.”

“May have?”

“I did meet a person. A woman. I … brought her back to my apartment.”

“Scandalous.”

“Oh hush. I was out drinking with Benny and Dean. Sam was there too, he’s just come back home, you’d like him. But I met a woman and, well we came back to my place. It didn’t end well though…”

“You met her at the bar? Or did you go somewhere else for drinks?”

“Yes, we went out to a bar, a place Dean liked. There was. Uh. There was jello wrestling.”

“Jello wrestling? What does that comprise of?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Jello. And wrestling. In a kiddie pool.”

“You didn’t….”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Well I lost to the girl who came home with me.”

“That sounds like quite an adventure. Still. Isn’t that wasteful?”

“What?”

“The jello wrestling. You don’t eat it afterward do you?”

“Oh, no, definitely not.”

Hannah pursed her lips as though she were, genuinely, concerned about the waste.

“Hannah, you don’t even like jello.”

“It’s still wasteful.”

“It was… actually a lot of fun. I’ve never done anything like that. So - impulsive.”

“Good, then I suppose I can forgive the wastefulness of it. So. What is her name? How did you end up doing that to yourself?”

“Meg. We were - uh - in the shower, together. And I fell. Hit my head on the sink.”

Hannah covered her mouth to hide her laugh but her shoulders were shaking. Honestly, all their co-workers at the factory who had thought she had a dour disposition simply did not get to know her well enough. 

Castiel continued, “She ended up taking me to the ER, and I found out the next morning that I had been calling her Daphne all night.”

Hannah’s eyes flew wide. “Oh Castiel! You didn’t!”

“I had a little too much to drink.”

“You’re not usually one to indulge. Did you have a good night at least?”

“I did. And I’m going to see her again.”

“Very good. I hope your second date goes better. I’m sure it couldn’t really go much worse any way, so don’t worry about it. I know you worry.”

Castiel didn’t correct her that it had been made very clear to him that he and Meg weren’t ‘dating’. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were doing. 

“How have you been Hannah? Any news?”

“Not nearly as exciting as yours. I’ve been too busy taking over your position at the factory.”

“Ah. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just been most of my focus lately. Things are shaping up though. I’ve been thinking of taking a little time off.”

“You should come and see Dean and Benny!”

“I do want to meet them.”

“Let me know when you get your time off, and I’ll be sure to take off too. It would be great to see you again.”

“It really would. And … I have missed the cat.”

He knew it. Giving Fish a scratch underneath his chin so that the cat would arch up and purr in an utterly cute display of affection to make Hannah jealous, Castiel pampered the cat for the duration of their Skype chat. He suspected that Fish recognized Hannah’s voice. 

Neither of them had particularly eventful lives, but they preferred to talk about other matters, such as politics and books. Hannah was the sort of person that could disagree and argue her case without a holding a grudge, and the Castiel appreciated a person who could be as honest as she. Sometimes, Hannah changed his mind, and sometimes he got her to reconsider. They lost track of time, clicking off their computers when it was well past ten. 

The sky was dark outside, his condo lit with a single desk lamp that cast a circle halfway across the living room. Fish was still draped over his lap, currently in the ‘melting’ stage of falling asleep. 

“We’re going to have company tomorrow night.”

Fish pressed his face to Castiel’s thigh. 

“You’re to be on your best behavior.”

The cat perhaps sensed that he was getting ready to move, shifting ever so slightly forward in his chair. Fish stood and arched as he kneaded at Castiel’s thigh before jumping on to the desk and sitting down to lift a leg high in the air and groom himself. 

“You’re hopeless.”

Castiel wasn’t certain if he was talking to himself or the cat. Clicking the desk light off he padded through the dark to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. 


	4. scar tissue that I wish you saw

 

Working at a hospital was never really boring, per se, but Meg was inured to the routine of it. Every now and then something truly interesting did wander through the ER doors, but for the most part it was all chest pains and power tool accidents and people with no insurance who didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

Meg had dragged her tired sorry ass in to work that Saturday after the jello incident, and was not surprised to see that Ruby had called off. Work was even more boring without her best friend to take breaks with. Meg got along all right with Eve and some of the other staff, but she tended to keep to herself and those closest to her. 

She had a day off Wednesday – the schedules were always erratic from week to week. Deciding to push Cas’ buttons and see how he’d react after several days had passed, she tried to sext him. And that just didn’t happen. He didn’t ask for more photos. He didn’t send dirty texts. Hell he didn’t even want to give her a dick pic. 

Cas was… well Meg wasn’t too sure what he was. He’d been social and fun enough at the bar, but most people are when they’re drunk. The morning after he’d been a fucking gentleman, and most people aren’t. She knew that he’d said his friends had taken him out that night. Meg wondered what his usual crowd was, if he went to book clubs and knitting circles. Yeah she could totally see that. 

So whatever the hell he was doing with her, it was a complete mystery. 

Meg figured he’d be fun to take for a ride. There had to be something going on with him. It wasn’t really polite to ask but she’d seen some of the patchwork scars down his side, even though it was dark and they were covered with jello. She had to admit to herself that she was curious. He seemed like a too sweet guy, but in a fight with no jello when he wasn’t piss drunk he’d probably kick her ass. He had some moves. 

It was fun, making up stories about people and who they are. Reality was usually a lot less interesting than you could imagine though. People didn’t tend to stick around once they got to know Meg too well. So this would be a little fun, a little bit of a project. Not a lot of people could surprise Meg, but Cas, she wasn’t going to make too many assumptions. 

The work week was uneventful. Cas did in fact send her pictures of ducks. And flowers. And a sunset. He used proper grammar and full sentences when he texted. 

God he was fucking weird. 

Meg really wanted to hit that. 

When Friday rolled around, Meg drove to Cas’ place. He didn’t have a fucking car. He apparently saw no need for them and biked everywhere. It was disgustingly healthy. Meg texted him on her way up to his building to let him know she was there. Balancing a twenty-four pack of Killian's on her hip, Meg knocked on the door.

Castiel answered, feet bare, in jeans and a white button down that was rolled up to the elbows. A bit tame, but it was a good look on him.

"Hello Meg."

"Hey."

"I haven't ordered pizza yet, I wasn't sure what you like."

The door clicked shut behind her as Meg wandered in to the kitchen and set the beer on the island. Turning around, she propped a hip on the edge and smiled lewdly at him as she kicked her boots off.

"Oh, I like extra meat."

He squinted at her and looked down at his feet, cheeks tingeing a faint pink. Oh this was just too fucking easy. For some reason, his shyness just made her want to press his buttons even more. Meg knew he could be a little rough, she could remember him slamming her up against this door when they were both drunk. So he had some problems lowering his inhibitions when sober. She did like a challenge.

He mumbled an 'all right' and picked up the phone mounted on the wall by the kitchen cupboards, finding a take out menu in a tidy little paper organizer underneath the phone that held what looked like bills, menus, and flyers.

Meg loaded the beers in to his fridge while he ordered, a meat lover's and a veggie lover's. The ginger cat popped in and wove between her legs, chirruping softly in a not quite meow for attention. Meg stooped and pet the cat until Cas was off the phone.

"It'll be forty minutes."

Sidling over to him, Meg pressed him back against the line of counters. "Gosh, a whole forty minutes, wonder what we should do with ourselves?"

Sliding a hand up his side, pressing their hips together, she tugged the front of his shirt until he bent forward enough that she could reach him on her tip toes. He kept his eyes open as she kissed him lightly, slid an arm around his waist, kissed him deeper. His cheeks were bright pink now.

Strong hands pushed on her shoulders and Meg dropped back to her heels.

"We could, uh, I figured we might watch a movie with dinner? Would you like to start one while we wait?"

"Gonna actually wine me and dine me first?"

"I don't have wine. You brought beer."

"It's an expression."

Cas shifted away from her. Meg stepped back and went to the fridge to pull out two beers.

"Okay so what kind of flicks do you have?"

"There's a shelf next to the t.v., if you'd like to pick one out?"

"Sure. Why not."

Meg honestly didn't have a lot of friends that she hadn't fucked at one point or another. Or at least wanted to. Guys were usually easy. It could take some time to get a girl in bed, but flash a little cleavage, talk dirty, and it wasn't too hard to get a guy to drop his pants. Of course, she knew that some didn't like how forward she was. Said she was 'too aggressive'. Yeah, everyone wanted a slut that didn't act like a slut.

Cas just… seemed nervous. Meg kind of wondered what his marriage had been like, what had ended it. There was no way in hell she was going to touch that.

He was sitting on the couch fiddling with a bottle of beer while she looked at the movie list. There were documentaries. He had honest to god animal, history, cultural documentaries on DVD in his living room. There was something about bees, Joan D'arc, Buddhism. Huh, that sounded kind of interesting.

"Oooh, you know I've never seen this."

Turning around, Meg held up her find.

"Braveheart? It's a bit long, but definitely a classic."

"It's pretty gory yeah?"

"Some parts."

"Sweet."

Meg popped the movie in and sat on the couch. Cas was tucked on one end of it with more than enough space left. Meg sat close enough next to him their thighs touched. Half the couch was empty. Picking up her beer bottle from the coffee table, she propped her feet up and nudged him with her shoulder.

"Gonna start it?"

"Oh. Yes. I have the remote."

They didn't get too far in before the pizza was there. Cas stood and told her to leave the movie on while he got it. Meg sprawled a little more. He brought the pizza boxes into the living room area and set both of them on the table, leaving again to come back with napkins and two more beers. Meg was watching him more than the movie, although it was a good movie.

She scooted over for elbow room while they ate. The cat sat in between them, seeming to think he'd get twice the attention now. After trying - and not finishing - a piece of Cas' veggie lover's, Meg ate two slices of the meat lover's and closed the box. Leaning across the couch, she stretched her legs out down one end and rested her cheek against Cas' shoulder.

He didn't move.

Tugging his arm up, Meg made herself comfortable on his - firm and warm - chest. He was stiff as a board under her. Tense. She staid where she was and got caught up in the movie. Eventually he relaxed underneath her, arm curling around her shoulders, body slumping against the couch and turning towards her to pull her in a little closer. At some point he started sifting his fingers through her hair absent mindedly. If Meg were a cat she might start purring. It was, relaxing. Comfortable.

The movie really was pretty gory. Meg watched fascinated when Wallace was captured and tortured, the suspense and brutality of it as they tried to wring a name out of him. Cas' chest hitched underneath her, and she heard a sniffle, his arm lifting from her shoulder as he wiped his face. She looked up at him.

"Oh my god, are you crying?"

"It's a very emotional part of the movie."

"They're torturing him."

"Yes, look - oh ..."

On screen, the shot was pointing up to the sky of his hand opening and a scrap of cloth fluttering down. His wife's handkerchief. Her ghost moved through the crowd. The crowd hushed as he died on a strangled noise of pain, never giving in to them. It was fucking intense.

Cas sniffled again and Meg just curled up on his chest where she had been.  There wasn't much left of the movie after that. Meg ignored the credits rolling as she turned against Cas' chest, moving up on the couch to wrap an arm around his shoulder as she kissed his neck. Bracing a hand on his thigh, she brushed her lips under his jaw and sucked the lobe of his ear between her teeth, biting gently. He smelled fucking wonderful.

She could feel him shiver underneath her, feel him tense and relax and shift into it, head tipped back against the couch. His hand slipped down to curl around the dip of her waist, palm splayed against her back. Meg knelt up on the couch, slid a leg to straddle his thigh, body curved over his lap. Hair falling around her face, she sucked at his ear and started popping the buttons on his shirt with one hand. His breathing was wild, little grunts and whines quiet in the space between them. Head turned to press his lips to her forehead, he breathed in her smell and Meg smiled against his neck.

There was a clatter as the cat knocked a beer bottle off the table.

Cas stiffened, hands on her shoulders again holding her away from his body.

"We should, uh, we should put the pizza away."

"Didn't I say I was gonna fuck you on this couch?"

"The bedroom would be more comfortable. And we can shut Fish out."

Meg heard another thunk and wondered if there was any beer left in the bottles. Sighing, she eased off his lap, smirking when she looked down to him shifting and the hard line of his cock in his jeans.

Helping clean up, Meg wrapped the pizza in foil as Cas rinsed out the beer bottles to put in a recycle bin under the sink. He was right, the movie had been long and a bathroom break before sex would be a good idea anyway. Cas offered her a spare toothbrush. Freshening up, finger-combing her hair, Meg noticed that he had a new shower curtain. It had little yellow ducks on it.

Fish was meowing in the hallway outside the closed bedroom door. Meg nudged the cat aside with a foot and slipped inside, shutting the door again behind her. Cas was folding back the neatly tucked corner of his bedsheets.

Now that she was in here not panicking about him bleeding everywhere from his forehead, Meg noticed the details. The undecorated walls. The tidy clear surface of a dresser. The shoes lined up neatly next to it. Dark blue curtains with some kind of abstract pattern were pulled shut across the window. The sheets were a soft pale yellow. There was a single mirror in the room, a narrow long one hung against what was probably a closet door.

Suddenly, she found herself wondering why Cas was doing this. If he was just going along with things, following her lead. If he was trying to prove something to himself. If this was his way of getting over Daphne. There were things she didn't know about him, things she never would, things he probably didn't even know about himself.

Meg crossed the room to him, pulled him in with a finger looped through his the waist of his jeans, pulled him close. Cas came, bending to her level, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in too. He kissed tentatively at first, chaste, dry lips against each other until she coaxed his mouth open and pushed in to him. Hot breath panted across wet lips, hands on each other's bodies shifting to find their way to mold against one another.

He groaned when she bit his lip, pulled the swell of it between her teeth and tugged. Strong hands on her hips heaved her up and tossed her on the bed. Meg smirked, wrapping her legs around his waist to make him fall too, hands braced to keep his weight off her as the bed dipped and creaked. Wriggling underneath him, Meg pulled her shirt up and unclasped her bra to tug it off. He knelt up, in the crook of her legs, hands resting on her thighs as he looked at her.

Fingertips traced the edges of tattoos. The lacy patterned swath of black underneath her breasts that framed her curves, the figure eight snake across her hip, flower mural half sleeves on the tops of her arms.

"Do they mean something?"

Rubbing a leg up his side, Meg rested her arms above her head folded, baring herself to him. "Not really, it's mostly just decoration."

"It's interesting."

Growing bolder, he pressed his hands to her skin, palms bracketing her ribs, fingers brushing down, stretching skin and squeezing. He took his time, just looking. It seemed strange to her too. Reaching a hand up, she snagged the hem of his shirt and pulled. Working on the rest of the buttons, she had it half open when his hands closed around her wrists.

"I.... uh... I don't know if..."

"Hey, I've seen you already."

"I know, but we were both -"

"It doesn't really matter to me. Come on, I'm not going to ask for explanations or anything."

Cas shrugged out of his shirt. Mouth pursed, brow furrowed, the stitches still in his forehead were a stark line that interrupted his face. New. Raw. Not like the scars scattered down his side. Sure, she was curious. Of course she was. But Meg knew how important it was to keep these things locked close. Running her nails down his side, his breath hitched, hands settling on her thighs around his waist.

"Does it hurt still?"

"Some are, sensitive, mostly there's not a lot of feeling."

"That's all right."

Popping open the button his pants, Cas' hips jerked forward against her hands and he seemed to get with it again, his own hands going to the waist of her jeans. Meg figured he'd afford her the same regard she gave him. His lips parted as he slid her jeans down, dark curls and pale skin bared; Meg never wore panties. Didn't see the point. His jeans had fallen down his thighs but he wore the same kind of white boxers as she had seen him in last week.

Without dim lights and drunken stumbling, his hands stuttered over the ladders of scars on the insides of her thighs. There were tattoos on the smooth unmarked sides of her legs, but raised ridges bumped parallel down the innermost spaces. Most were faded and silver and near smooth, but some gnarled thick lines still marked a topography of interrupted skin.

His hands stopped with her jeans pulled down to her knees. Forehead twitched, stitches pulled in the skin.

"Not gonna quit on me now are you big boy?"

Slowly he leaned back and pulled at her jeans again, Meg lifting her legs as he tugged them off. Naked, she scooted back further on the bed, resting up on her elbows curved towards him. Cas shimmied out of his jeans and boxers as he crawled up in between her thighs and dipped down to kiss her again, hands skimming the sides of her legs and over the curve of her hips.

He cradled her face in one hand as he kissed her with a soft press and slow lick of his tongue. Meg raked her nails up his back, goading him on, until his teeth sunk in to her lip, biting at her mouth. She wanted him to leave an impression on her body, wanted to feel the ghost of him under her skin for days, wanted bruises, wanted teeth and nails.

Clamping her thighs around his waist, Meg bucked her hips up and twisted, flipping him over. Straddling his thighs she pinned his hips with her hands and looked down at him. Always look before you touch, never know what you'll find. His cock was hard and ruddy, tapping against his belly.

Reaching over to snag the pant leg of her jeans flung off the edge of the bed, Meg pulled them up and grabbed a condom from the pocket. Always come prepared. Cas was watching her, seeming only curious and even a little docile until she prodded him. Rolling the condom on his cock, his broad hands settled on her thighs, fingers spread wide and thumbs rubbing small circles against her skin.

Lifting above him, Meg braced a hand on his chest and teased him, sinking down on the head of his cock and holding there. Biting her lip, hair tossed over one shoulder, she moved in minute little circles of her hips. Finally, his hands pushed up her thighs and gripped on to her hips tight, pulling her down as he surged off the bed and sunk in to her body deep.

Crying out, back arched, Meg clasped her thighs tight around his hips and ground down on him. Grabbing his wrists, she moved his hands up to guide them where she wanted, cupping her hands over his on her breasts and squeezing, encouraging him where to move and how. Sliding her hands down his forearms, she started to ride him, lift-drops fucking down on his cock, hips rocking to press in deep.

Cas, mouth trying to form some word but only gasping out quietly, kneaded her breasts and dragged his fingers down her body as he pushed off the mattress with erratic jerks of his hips. Meg had barely hit her stride when his face scrunched up and his whole body went taut, bowing off the bed then collapsing.

"Really?"

Stilling on his lap, hands limp on her thighs, Cas groaned and pulled an arm up to fold his forearm over his eyes.

"It's ... it's been a while."

Sighing, Meg lifted off his lap and dropped to the bed next to him, sprawling on her back, hair tangled messy and skin flushed.

"You got divorced, what, a year ago, haven’t you been with anyone since?"

Curling on to her side, Meg watched Cas as he pulled the condom off, cheeks pink.

Brushing her hand over his shoulder, she flicked at a curl of hair behind his ear. ”Sorry, I'm not really the best at pillow talk, you don't have to answer that."

She couldn't comprehend the notion of being with one person for so long, and figured he'd been with other girls after the divorce.

Cas covered his face again with a hand and mumbled, "I haven't had sex for three years.”

"What?"

"The last two years of our marriage, were.... dry."

"Fuck. That sucks. Why?"

"We had started drifting apart. Went for longer and longer without intimacy. I think after a point Daphne resented me, it took me a while to work up to the divorce."

"What happened between you?"

"Nothing really, we got married after knowing each other for only a few months and found after years together that we didn't really share the same beliefs and goals.”

His voice was quiet and tired.

"Like what?"

"I think, the biggest wedge that drove us apart was that I didn't want to have children. I kept waiting for the time to be right."

"Hey, I don't want kids either. Ever."

He hummed in agreement and finally rolled over to face her, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't really mean to start this conversation. Sometimes it was simply easier to talk when you were already vulnerable anyway.

"After seven years I realized, the time was never going to be right. I just didn't want kids. We had talked about adoption for a while - argued really - but it didn't work out. Adopting a kid, it would have been trying to bridge the rift that had grown between us with having a child together and that.... it wouldn't be fair to the kid."

"At least you realized that before it was too late."

"You don't think ten years is too late?"

"Well, you hadn't dragged any kids into it, that's a plus. It's never too late to change who you are. People change all the time."

Yawning, sleepy from beer and sex - even if there wasn't much of it - Meg rolled on her back and stretched her arms above her head. Cas made a quiet little sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, hand reaching out like it couldn't quite decide if it should. She grabbed him and put his hand on her breast again.

"You can touch me, you know."

He pushed up on his elbow, hand slipping down to her thigh, pulling her legs wider. Meg grinned and helped him along, running her fingers up his arm. Cas scooted over, pushing up on his hands and knees lower down on the bed. Meg lifted a leg to swing over to his other side, bracketing him. He looked up at her, a hand rubbing the back of a thigh.

"I, I want you to feel good too."

"Fucking go for it."

He looked like he was gathering up all the courage he could muster between her legs, and Meg almost wondered if he'd ever even eaten a girl out. Hadn't had sex for the last two years of his marriage. They probably had a lights out missionary kind of deal. Well, Meg didn't mind being a mentor in things like this.

He traced his fingers over the patterns of her tattoos, eyes roaming her body curiously from his position between her thighs. When he lingered too long hovering over the scars that laddered her skin, Meg pulled his hands up, dragging them over her stomach and lacing their fingers together. Castiel kissed the tender inside of her thighs but he didn’t stay, moving upward to kiss the apex between her legs. 

Sighing contentedly at the warmth of his mouth against her, Meg slid her leg up and down his side as he settled. Stroking her fingers over his wrist and scraping nails lightly along his forearm, Meg touched and encouraged him as he explored tentatively. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me. Dive in, I like a little biting.”

Big blue eyes looked up the length of her body. He made a pretty picture kneeling down there. Stroking one of his hands down her hip and curling under her thigh, he lifted a leg up over his shoulder and used his hand to pull her lips apart as he nudged in and licked up the length of her pussy. 

Sifting her fingers through his hair, she tugged his face closer. Nuzzling against her, rubbing his cheek along her thigh, he moved slowly but steadily increased his pressure, boldness growing with her guidance as she rolled her hips against his face and moaned when he found the right spot. 

“Try using your fingers too. Suck me and fuck me on your fingers at the same time.”

His brow creased and he shifted to rest on one forearm underneath her bent leg as he raised the other to press his fingers into her, as precise and careful as his other actions had been. She was so wet she could hear the squelch of it as he thrust, curling his fingers inside her and tugging her clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah that it’s it, fuck, come on, harder.”

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of it, and Meg couldn’t look away from the picture he made. Strong back angling up and muscle flexing as he moved, putting his entire body in to it, hard muscles of his arm brushing against the inside of her thigh as he fingered her. His skin was warm, body solid, Meg rubbing her legs up and down his arms, his sides, settling her feet on his ass and squeezing with her toes. She wanted to touch all of him, fuck he had a nice ass. 

Back arching, hips rolling, Meg squeezed a breast in one hand and pushed the other through his hair as she writhed on his bed. It felt so fucking good, all his attention focused on her, following her instructions, so eager to give her pleasure. She wouldn’t come like this, she knew that already, but she’d take what was freely given and revel in the simple pleasure of it. 

Sex was something easy, a way to relate person to person even if it was base and simple, it was uncomplicated. People usually tried to muck it up with other things, attach strings, get all tangled up, but that’s why she didn’t usually stick around too long. She just liked the sex, feeling wanted, the pressure down low in her abdomen and the wetness trickling down the inside of her thighs and the heat swelling under her skin - these were familiar easy things.

After a time, the tension coiled tight in her core started to ease and the pressure of his fingers became more of a nuisance than a pleasure. Still floating high on it, not quite to the edge, Meg tugged on his hair to pull him away. Cas blinked and looked up at her, stilling. He kissed her and stroked his wet fingers along plump skin, lips slick and a flush high on his cheeks. 

Still kneeling between her legs as she pet through his hair, he asked, “Was that good?”

Meg smiled and traced his jaw with her fingers, “Not too shabby.”

“Did you, uh…”

“Did I come?”

“Yes.”

“No, and I won’t so don’t feel bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Meg shifted and lifted her leg over his head, curling on to her side as he crawled up the bed to lay next to her. 

“I just don’t really get orgasms from regular sex, it takes really strong specific kind of stimulation for me to orgasm.”

He frowned and squinted like he didn’t really understand. Some guys were so in the dark. It was usually kind of pathetic, but Cas just looked confused. 

“Look don’t take it the wrong way, it has nothing to do with your manly skills. Some women are anorgasmic, sometimes there’s like steps a, b, and c to getting an orgasm. I can’t come without toys. It’s never happened, and trust me I’ve tried a lot of positions and a lot of dicks.”

“Oh.” He seemed to consider this, shifting to pull the sheet up over himself. Meg wasn’t really sure if she was staying or going, but Cas just scooted closer and covered her too. “I’ve only ever been with two other women. This sort of thing, I don’t usually, this isn’t normally discussed so openly.”

“I’ve been with plenty of people, guys and girls. You can’t really get what you want if you don’t ask for it. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s new. Can I ask you a question, if you don’t mind being so open?”

“Shoot.”

“If you don’t have an orgasm, why do you enjoy having sex with people?”

“Because it’s fun.”

“Typically, isn’t the point of sex climax or procreation?”

“Maybe for some people, but I still enjoy myself.”

Castiel hummed and scooted closer on the bed until their knees bumped, both of them on their side facing each other. He reached out, again hesitant, and Meg just watched him figuring it out for himself. To be honest, she liked seeing guys squirm. Settling his hand on her shoulder, stroking down her arm, he rested tentatively over her hip. 

“Are you staying the night?”

“I was probably going to head out in a bit.”

“Please stay.”

It was late. And his bed was comfortable. He was easy too, for all his stiff awkwardness there was something earnest about him that Meg found strange and interesting. 

“Sure.”

“They’d be big on you, but I could lend you pajamas.”

“Don’t be stupid.” 

Shifting to roll on to her side, Meg pulled his hand over her hip and held it over her stomach. He inched closer, slotting their legs together, curling his arm tighter, eventually pressing his chest against her back and nosing into her hair with a quiet little hum. He smelled good, that combination of sweat and aftershave and deodorant. His stomach pushed against her lower back with his breathes and Meg relaxed into the warmth. 

Sleepy and sated, Meg was loose in his hold. Lips pressed against the back of her neck and she felt him finally sag as he found his spot curled up behind her. His voice was soft when he said to no one in particular, “This is nice.” 

Fuck. 

The routine of work was calming when Meg felt conflicted. Granted, she felt conflicted a lot, but she couldn’t help wanting too many different things. Meg carried her sad lunch - a wilted salad and questionable sandwich with apple juice - on a tray to the small break room where she usually ate with Ruby. Sneakers squeaking loudly on polished linoleum, Meg almost ran in to Eve as she was rounding the corner.

Eve turned on her, that creepy fucking smile always on her face.

"Hey did you get the lab results from Anderson yet, for Ms. Field?"

"I'm on lunch."

"First thing when you're done - "

"- will be the lab results."

Eve narrowed her eyes, smile pulling tight. "Thanks."

"Sure."

Meg rolled her eyes as she continued to the break room that was tucked between a storage area for the ER and a covered bridge connecting it to the main hospital. Ruby was already there, leaning back in a chair with her legs propped up on a table. The break room had a line of cabinets, a sink, a fridge and a ratty old couch.

Technically, they should take their lunch in the cafeteria. Or outside at the smoker's patio. But Meg preferred not having to deal with her coworkers when she was on break.

"Ran in to Eve. Almost literally."

Meg plopped down in a chair across from Ruby, who was picking at some soggy looking french fries.

"Oh my god she has been on my ass all morning for the smallest fucking things."

"Yeah, it would probably take her less time to just get the damn test results she was asking after herself than to send me for them."

Ruby smirked and swallowed a french fry, tipping her chair down to lean across the table and whisper, "You know she's probably just too busy sucking face with Lilith."

"You're shitting me. That creepy blond that works in pediatrics."

"Oh yeah, I caught them in a supply closet."

"No."

"Yes. God aren't they just the perfect creepy couple."

"That's kind of hot."

"I know right?"

Meg nodded and uncapped her apple juice, eating lunch and contemplating a trip to the main hospital courtyard where there was a Starbucks. Ruby was eating her fries dejectedly, slathering them in ketchup.

"I can't believe how bad they can fuck up a potato in here."

"Why do you eat them if you complain every time?"

"Because I literally cannot believe how bad they can fuck up a potato. Every time it's a surprise. Like I just blank out how terrible it is."

She was still eating the fries anyway. Meg finished her sandwich and picked at her salad. Rolling a crick out of her shoulder, her shirt shifted and Ruby gasped.

"Is that a hickey?"

"What?"

"That's totally a hickey."

"So?"

"From who?”

Yeah, there was no way that she was going to get out of this. Ruby was a bloodhound for gossip. Meg loved it, when it came to gossiping about other people. 

"You remember that guy from jello wrestling like a week ago?"

"Yeah, so are you like, seeing him?"

"Not really. I don't know. I mean we've texted a few time and I hung out with him last weekend."

"And got hickeys."

"Yeah."

"So......"

"So?"

"I gave you all the details about Sam. Which, I saw him again. Oh my god. We didn't even make it to the bedroom he just stripped me in the kitchen, picked me up in the hall and fucked me against the wall. He's just, strong, and huge, like everywhere, he's so huge."

"Fucking size queen."

"Definitely. So what's Cas like?"

"He's.... sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, he's not really my type. But. I kind of like him.”

Meg avoided looking at Ruby. She knew it, Ruby definitely knew it. But she wasn’t going to deal with that judgmental all knowing smirk. 

"What do you mean?"

"Ok, so, we started texting, and I tried sending him some nudies. You know what I've gotten from him?"

"What?"

"So, he bikes to work right, and he goes along a canal path, you know the Towpath, he's been sending me pics of sunsets and clouds and these fucking ducks."

"Ducks? Seriously?"

"Yes. And I swear to god I saw a knitting basket under his coffee table. He lives alone. He fucking knits. And he doesn't even have a coffee pot. There's a kitten calendar in his kitchen."

"Oh my god, is he Mister fucking Rodgers?"

"He might be."

Meg shoved her salad aside, uninterested, and finished her apple juice on the rest of her half hour lunch break while they gossiped about who did - or did not - get frisky in the supply closets. She wasn’t really paying attention, mostly just trying to distract Ruby. And herself. The last part didn’t work too well. It was a confusing day indeed when gossiping about their co-workers sex lives could not distract her from her own.


	5. to lick your heart and taste your health

Castiel began to regularly send pictures of his bike rides home to Meg. She liked them. At least, she stated that she liked them, but a few pictures here and there as they texted couldn’t be that much of a bother whether she actually did like them or not. So Castiel took a few photos of the sunsets when they were nice. And of the flowers that lined the bike path. He found himself paying more attention to his surroundings and all the interesting things along the path. 

Although they had decided to see each other again the Friday after last, they texted nearly every day. Castiel enjoyed it. He wasn’t usually very sociable, and did not frequently find himself wanting to talk to the same person day after day. He could go weeks without talking to Dean, although Dean usually still called and texted him more regularly, but he found himself curious about Meg and her banal every day life. The intricacies of her habits. Her colloquialisms. The things which she found interesting became interesting to him. 

On Wednesday she texted him as Castiel was settling down to some knitting with Fish. 

 **M:** _h_ _ey what ru up to?_

 **C:** _Just knitting_

 ****M:** ** _i just got out of work_

 ******M:** ** ** _stressful day_

 ******M:** ** ** _u wanna hang?_

 **C:** _You would like to come over?_

 ******M:** ** ** _yeah if youre not going to bed soon_

 **C:** _I’d like to see you_

 ******M:** ** ** _cool_

 ******M:** ** ** _should i bring anything_

 **C:** _Like what?_

 ******M:** ** ** _dunno food have you had dinner yet_

 **C:** _I still have beer from last weekend. Maybe, bring some chips?_

 ******M:** ** ** _sure see you in a bit_

Castiel smiled at his phone. She wanted to come over after work. It amazed him that she had a stressful day at work and when she got out it was him that she thought of and wanted to come talk to. 

Setting his knitting aside, Castiel did a quick sweep of his condo to tidy. It wasn’t long before there was a knocking at the door. Meg had a plastic grocery bag and wore a leather jacket over maroon hospital scrubs. 

“Hey.”

“Hello. Long day?”

“Oh yeah.”

Castiel closed the door behind her as she made her way in, dropping the bag on the kitchen island and hanging her jacket on the hook at the back of the closet door. After nudging out of her shoes, she stepped up to Castiel and grabbed his t-shirt to pull him down into a messy kiss. He was unused to this - casual displays of intimacy outside of the bedroom. In the kitchen no less. Just to kiss. It was the first thing she wanted to do after coming in to his condo. Kiss him. 

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Castiel pulled her closer and pushed the hair away from her face, kissing her slower, not yielding to the frantic little nips she kept biting at his lip. 

“It’s nice to see you Meg. Tell me about your day?”

“What, you don’t want to fuck me over the kitchen island?”

“Maybe later. Do you want a beer?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“No.”

Meg was pulling the bag of chips out of what she brought over, which was apparently several bags of different chips. Castiel rummaged through his fridge for a container of hummus and baby carrots as well. 

“You should have something other than just chips and beer. How about hummus?”

“The fuck is that?”

“It’s really good. It’s made out of garbanzo beans.”

She shrugged and moved up behind him where he stood by the fridge, pressing her body close. 

“Sure why not.”

“Come on, let’s sit on the couch.”

They moved to the living room area with the beer and food, spreading out on the coffee table and on the couch. Meg groaned as she collapsed back on it, and Castiel tugged her feet up in to his lap to give her a massage. He knew how tiring working on your feet could be all day, especially with a fast paced job. 

“Oh god are you going to give me a foot massage?”

“That was my intent.”

“You’re never going to get rid of me now.”

“Tell me about your day.”

Meg scrunched up her face and busied her mouth with a few chips. Before settling down more comfortably, she pulled her shirt off and then her undershirt. With a groan, she flopped back against the couch and poked him with the foot he was not paying attention to. Castiel switched. She sipped her beer and dangled an arm against the back of the couch. 

Finally, she sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about work. I want to talk about anything but work. Distract me.”

Folding one leg up on the couch to turn towards her, wearing only comfortable pajamas, Castiel rubbed his thumbs against the arch of her foot and watched the look of sheer bliss on her tipped back face as she stretched out like a ball of yarn unspooling. 

“Hm. May I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

He squinted at her smirk. 

“Ok, ok, shoot, what do you want to know.”

“Anything really. I don’t have a particular question in mind. How did you decide to become an RN?”

“This is talking about work.”

“This is talking about you before work.”

“I don’t know. I just, I didn’t really have any plans and my dad thought it would be good, he just wanted me to do something with my life you know, and it turned out I was pretty good at it.”

Castiel hummed and nudged the carrots closer to her on the coffee table before picking up her other foot again and kneading. Fish took up position on her stomach, nestling his head on top of her chest. Castiel had to admit a slight twinge of jealousy. 

Meg scratched the cat’s head and pursed her lips. “Not to sound rude or anything, but how’d you end up where you are, what did you used to do?”

“I was a manager at a factory for a while. I just needed a job when I moved her and took the first thing I found, but, I will admit that the environment is low stress and I enjoy that.”

“Sure. What did you want to be when you were little?”

“When I was a kid? I… I don’t remember.”

“Course you do. We all do, we just tell ourselves it’s stupid anymore. I mean even if you didn’t have a job in mind you probably had some aimless dream to just do something.”

Castiel tried to remember. As an only son, he was all his parents had to dote on until his father had passed away and his mother became even more protective and over bearing. All he wanted was to make her happy. It pleased him, to feel like he could take care of her. 

Folding his other leg up on the couch, linking his ankles and drawing both of Meg’s feet in to his lap, petting more than massaging at this point, he talked while she ate. 

“When I was really little, an uncle bought me a subscription to National Geographic for a birthday present. I used to just look at the pictures, but then I started reading the articles too. It was amazing, the adventures these people went on and the things they saw. Discovering new animal species in the heart of the Amazon and translating the languages of remote tribes. I always thought that looked exciting.”

She was smiling at him, just barely, hiding it behind the neck of her beer bottle. “Oh yeah? You wanted to travel? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the kind of guy in to big adventures.”

“Well, I’ve done some traveling. I’ve done the things my family wanted me to. What I thought I should. I don’t really know what I want.”

“Yeah me neither, join the club. But most people really don’t. They settle, you know. Find some sort of baseline they can tell themselves is happiness and just keep going. Sometimes that’s all you really got.”

“Do you like traveling?”

“I’m always up for an adventure.”

There were crumbs in her cleavage as she slouched against the couch arm, feet in his lap and cat sprawled on colorful skin, hair curling at her temples and a smile teasing on her lips. Castiel could remember, if he tried hard enough, what it was like to be a child for whom the world was an endless horizon of adventures to be had. It was easy though, for the weight of responsibility and the fear of the unknown, to narrow down the path to a pin prick point. With routine and the safety of a normal life, complacency was undemanding. 

“We should go on adventures,” Castiel decided. 

Meg nudged his hip with a foot and shifted. “Yeah. I think you got a wild side you hide under your starched shirts.”

Pushing the cat gently off her lap, Meg twisted around and shuffled closer, leaning against his side. Lips salty, she kissed him with a smile and splayed a hand against his thigh. Adventures could be interesting, but so was discovering in the safety of his house what wicked things she could think to do to him. Circling an arm over her shoulders, Castiel tugged her hair tie free and sifted his hands through the soft tumble of her loose hair. She smelled fruity and sweet, though he couldn’t quite place it, and he briefly wondered before dismissing the notion that she was the sort of girl for high end perfumes. 

He and Daphne had been fairly well off, better than most at least in the recession, and although they were both by nature frugal people, Castiel had followed the script on how romance should work between married couples. A gold necklace here, flowers there, tickets to the ballet. That was how he believed things should be. But there was no script with Meg. Perhaps, it could be chalked up to the generational difference of ages. Or it was simply Meg. 

With a nudge, Meg pushed one of his folded legs to the floor, and Castiel stretched his other along the back of the couch as she settled against him, hands pushing up under his shirt. Daring, Castiel slid his hands around her ribs to stroke the length of her spine and rest finally on the clasp of her bra. He could feel her response in the roll of her hips as she bit at his mouth and squirmed. 

Snapping and pulling off her bra, Castiel eased up off the arm of the couch as she pushed at his shirt so she could lift it over his head. Skin to skin warm and soft, Castiel eased back as she pinned his shoulders down and started moving her mouth lower to leave a bruise in the crook of his neck and tease against a nipple. 

It was a quiet Wednesday night as so many quiet Wednesday nights had been before, but unlike any of them. Castiel realized he didn’t need to go halfway around the world to have an adventure. Meg was one in and of herself. 

Friday evenings turned in to a ‘whenever we both have off work’ kind of arrangement, and Castiel spent the next few weeks hardly lonely at all. Meg stopped by after her work frequently, and Castiel made sure to have his kitchen stocked better for healthy dinners. Most days that she came by, Castiel cooked while Fish was lavished with attention. Honestly, it seemed like the cat was starting to favor Meg over him. He may have been a tad jealous. Just a little. 

But Meg favored him over the cat, and after dinner they whiled away the evening curled together on the couch watching movies or engaged in more vigorous activity in the bedroom. Although the sex was, certainly, pleasurable it was the intimacy which Castiel found himself craving. He hadn’t realized how much it was sorely lacking his life. Intimacy usually, with Daphne, had been a more perfunctory duty of marriage. Castiel couldn’t help but think he hadn’t paid enough attention to her and what she needed, for all the things Meg showed him. She wasn’t shy at all about telling him what to do and how. Somehow, a vibrator had made it’s home in Castiel’s night stand, and he was pleased to say he had gotten skilled in managing to bring Meg to climax.

Everything about Meg was a shift from the paradigm he had been so thoroughly embedded in for the majority of his life. It didn’t help that over the past year he begun to doubt and question many things about his habituations and ideals. If anything, she confirmed the need for this questioning. He felt selfish, for wanting things for himself, materialistic and sinful for the nature of their relationship. But if marriage and children were things that, mutually, neither of them wanted, he couldn’t rationally find fault with their actions. 

It was confusing.

A few days without any contact was odd, but not quite alarming. An entire week without any responses to text or calls, and no evening visits, that had Castiel starting to worry. At first, he rationalized that they’d been getting too close too fast and Meg needed space. He didn’t want to smother her. She had a more active life than he had. But were a few texts that much of a burden? Of course, then he proceeded to think that she had simply moved on. Castiel didn’t seem to be quite her type, perhaps she had decided that it wouldn’t work. The thing was, however, that he sincerely doubted she would just drop him without saying anything at all. 

It was perhaps a bit of a stalker move, but Castiel was worried after several weeks passed. He went through Sam to get Ruby’s contact information and called her to inquire if she’d talked to Meg lately. Ruby was somewhat evasive but had informed him that Meg had called off work a few days and was most likely sick. 

That did make sense, although Castiel still found it odd if she was recently sick why she would drop off the radar for several weeks. He really wasn’t very good at having a non-relationship relationship, or figuring people out. He had known Daphne for only a few months before proposing. Perhaps he did get too attached too fast. 

Castiel still worried. If Meg was sick, he decided it was a completely normal and harmless gesture to take her soup. She had always come over to his condo, but that was because she had a car. Castiel did have her address though, which was only a ten minute walk from the bus stop nearest to it. 

Armed with a container of soup like a mission, Castiel found his way to Meg’s on a rainy Thursday afternoon. She didn’t answer her door when he knocked, awkward and wet in the hallway of the apartment complex. Castiel set his bag down and leaned against the wall to call Ruby, who told him that she hadn’t been to work that day either. He called Meg, and heard her phone inside the apartment ringing. He knocked again, then texted her.

 **C:**   _I can hear your phone ringing inside your apartment, are you avoiding me?_

 **C:**   _It would be all right if you are, I’m just concerned_

 **M:** _Im not avoiding you_

**C:** _You haven’t answered any calls or texts for several weeks_

**M:** _Im avoiding everything_

**M:** _not just you_

**C:** _Please answer the door_

He heard shuffling around inside the apartment, and Meg finally answered. She was disheveled, hair a tangled mess around her head, bundled in loose clothes, eyes red rimmed and mouth turned down in a frown. 

“I brought soup.”

“Why are you here?”

“Ruby told me you had called off sick. I just thought….”

“I’m not really in the mood for company.”

“I apologize. Meg, are you all right?”

She rolled her eyes and turned away from the door, disappearing back in to the apartment but leaving the door open. Castiel followed her in, closing it after himself and kicking off his shoes, bag hanging loosely in his grip. He’d never been in her apartment before. The door opened to a living room, which was messy with rumpled blankets, dishes on the coffee table, mail piled up. To the left was a door to the kitchen, through which Castiel saw counters stacked with dishes and the trash bin overflowing with take out containers. To the right were two doorways directly off the living room, one he presumed for the bathroom, the other to Meg’s bedroom where she had disappeared in to. 

Setting his bag down, Castiel hovered in the doorway to her room. 

“Meg?”

She shifted underneath a mound of blankets on her bed.

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I just don’t feel good. Didn’t want you to see me like this.”

He could barely hear her through layers of blankets. Making his way over to the bed he sat on the edge and placed a hand on her, though he couldn’t tell exactly where.

“What do you mean? Is something wrong?”

“I just. I don’t know. Sometimes I just need to hide. It’s hard to, do… anything.”

Castiel looked around at the mess and put pieces together, remember the worst times of his own struggles with depression and how difficult it was to even keep up with basic hygiene. 

She rolled over and pushed the blankets down to glare at him. “Why are you even here?”

“Because I care about you.”

“Well I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Care about myself. Just. Leave.”

“When was the last time you ate anything Meg?”

“I don’t know.”

“I brought soup.”

She didn’t answer.

“Would you eat some? Can I stay for a while?”

“I don’t get it Cas.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sure you got better places to be.”

“But I want to be here.”

Meg only scowled, so Castiel stood to fetch a bowl of soup.Taking a glass of water in to her with it, he set them down on the night stand. Meg grunted. 

“Please just try to eat a little. I’m going to clean up and I’ll be back in.”

She didn’t reply. 

Castiel gathered what amounted to a small mountain of dirty dishes from around her bedroom and took them in to the kitchen. Filling the sink with hot soapy water to let what was there soak, he picked up the rest of the dishes strewn around the kitchen and the living room. Everything was piled next to the sink. Cleaning a load at a time and letting it air dry, he tidied in between. Took the trash out. Wiped down the tables and counters. Picked up clothes. 

Sometimes, even the simplest things could be insurmountably difficult to complete. He knew that. After he’d been released from the hospital, Castiel lived with his mother and for a while he could remember how the days would stretch and warp around him and he was unable to keep track of time or himself. He showered when his mother made him, ate what food she put in front of him, went to the doctor’s visits she took him to. He was better, functional at least, by the time he met Daphne. But even she needed to keep him on track through years of therapy and relapse. 

He didn’t know what Meg was struggling with or why. He wasn’t going to press it, not with how she was at the moment. They could talk later, when she felt better. For now, small things that he could do would help. A clean living environment could tremendously improve mood. It was difficult to keep up with, easy to slide down, and a vicious cycle once it started. 

With the apartment more closely resembling somewhere safe and healthy for habitation, Castiel slipped back in to the bedroom. He was glad to see that half the bowl of soup was finished and she had drunk all the water. There were mounds of dirty laundry flung around the bedroom. Castiel considered taking them to a laundromat. Perhaps in a little bit he could convince Meg to go out with him to do laundry. 

Pulling the sheets aside, he found her curled in bed warily watching him. 

“Do you mind if I nap with you?”

Meg scooted back, and Castiel settled in to the space she made. 

“I’m glad you ate some. I took care of the dishes, maybe we could do laundry later?”

Meg rolled over and curled on her side. Castiel spooned up behind her, an arm resting over her waist as he tucked the blankets back up around them. Kissing the back of her neck, hair lanky and a shower would definitely be necessary before laundry, he sighed and rested with her even though he wasn’t tired. 

Castiel wanted to give her everything, he wanted to be able to give her health and happiness. He wanted to be able to fix whatever was wrong. He knew he couldn’t. But this, he could do. Curl up under the blankets and hide together and keep each other warm. 

Meg’s hand slid down to cover his where it rested on her belly. She laced their fingers together and squeezed. 

“Thanks.”

Castiel unbuttoned the cuffs of his white button down shirt and rolled the sleeves up, neatly tucking them below the elbow. He frowned at his reflection. Rolled his shirt sleeves down and left the cuff unbuttoned. No that was too messy. He buttoned the cuffs, and reached up to unbutton a few buttons at the collar instead. Jeans were casual anyway, that made the entire outfit casual. Castiel considered the few loose fitting t-shirts that he had. He only ever wore those for work around the house, sleeping, exercise. Sighing, he unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled the sleeves up again. Meg had told him once that rolled up shirt sleeves were sexy. He has no idea why. 

There was a loud knock at the door that was more like pounding. As Castiel padded down the hallway in to the kitchen, he saw Fish sitting in front of the door looking up at the knob. The cat never waited at the door for him when he came home. When he opened the door to find Meg leaning against the door frame, the cat sauntered out to the hall to weave between her legs. 

“Hello.”

“Hey, ready to go?”

“Yes, let me just, get the cat back in.”

Meg picked up the fat ginger cat and scratched it’s chin before passing it over to Castiel. He dropped Fish back inside and locked the door, patting his pockets to check that he had everything. Meg had black ripped jeans on that were skin tight clinging to her toned legs and a white tank under her leather jacket. She looped an arm around Castiel’s waist to pull him closer to her body, leaning up on her toes to kiss him enthusiastically in the middle of the hall.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I swear if you keep asking about my feelings I’m going to punch you. I’m fine.”

“Just making polite conversation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thank you for picking me up.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They took the stairs down, Meg’s car sitting crooked in a parking spot in the middle of the lot outside. The sun was down but it wasn’t fully night, clouds still tinged in pink and the sky darkening cerulean. Over the past few weeks, Castiel had taken the bus to Meg’s apartment three times. He did feel like he was imposing when she wouldn’t answer his phone calls, but she still let him in and curled up on the couch with him to watch movies. He didn’t mind a bit of a travel, or that she was feeling under the weather. 

Meg seemed to be back to her energetic self and had decided they needed a night out. Or, she had declared that she needed a night out and Castiel suggested that they meet up with Benny, Dean and Sam for drinks. Ruby as well, who was maybe dating Sam. Castiel wasn’t too certain of the details. 

Castiel was content to nurse a room temperature beer and sit on the side line watching Dean and Sam team up against Ruby and Meg for another game of pool. No shots. He might not be as lively as his friends, but he enjoyed the company and the atmosphere. The sense of belonging to a particular set of people in a particular time. It lent a sort of definition to one’s life. And although the definition of casual drinks in a shabby bar was certainly not one Castiel would ever suspect could describe himself, he was genuinely beginning to feel comfortable with it. 

Benny had gone to the men’s room, and returned with two more beers. He offered Castiel one, cold and with it’s label still fully in tact, unlike the half peeled label on the empty one he was rolling between his palms. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” Benny kicked back in a chair next to him, watching the others play what looked to be an increasingly competitive game of pool. 

Benny slung one arm up on the chair back, beer dangling from his fingers. They sat in silence for a while, before Benny’s low rumble of a voice started up. “You know, I’m glad you found someone. You been smilin’ a lot more lately than when you first moved here.”

“I honestly thought I’d live out the rest of my days with my cat.”

Laughing, Benny slapped him on the shoulder. “You know, I could see that too.”

The drawl of his accent was comforting. Benny left the conversation open, and Castiel had to admit that there were questions and doubts weighing on his mind. 

“I don’t really know what she sees in me.”

Benny peered over at him, and Castiel frowned at his hands in his lap.

“Brother, I gotta say she didn’t really seem like your type at first. But I don’t suppose you ever really know what your type is until you find it. Or you just spend your time lookin’ for something that doesn’t exist.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You know how a lot of people will say that when you love someone you shouldn’t try to change them, you should love them how they are. See the thing is, you shouldn’t really try to change someone, they aren’t going to change unless they want to, but if they love you then they’re probably going to end up changin’ themselves. You’ll end up meetin’ somewhere in the middle.”

“Daphne and I never seemed to be able to change in the right ways for each other.”

“Well sometimes two people start out different and they change an’ grow together. And sometimes people start out similar and they change and grow apart. Course there’s a million other ways for things to happen. Just give it time.” Benny smiled fondly as he leaned back and watched the pool game. “I knew since I first met Dean he was the only one for me. Now, he didn’t know that. And it took him a little while to warm up. We’ve both changed a lot since we known each other. You’ll be finding out new things about your girl years down the road, and you’ll be finding out new things about yourself.”

Castiel watched the pool game. Meg had shrugged out of her jacket, colorful arms graceful and sure in her motions as she skillfully played. Her smile was wide today, her eyes bright, as she laughed with their friends.

Setting his beer on the table, Castiel sighed. “Do you think people really can change so much?”

Benny’s smile was reassuring, and it eased the pressure knotted in Castiel’s chest. “Depends on the person. An’ what they’re changing for.”


	6. push me up against the wall

There was one thing Meg couldn’t quite put her finger on about Cas that pissed her off. 

That’s not entirely accurate. She knew what pissed her off about him. She didn’t know _why_ it bothered her so much. 

He was too fucking nice. He was getting way too attached, way too quick, and Meg didn’t know how to deal with that. She couldn’t really return his affection, and didn’t know if she ever would. Not in the love struck puppy way he came across sometimes. People weren’t just nice to other people to be nice. She didn’t know what the fuck he wanted, but she sure as shit knew she didn’t have whatever it was he was looking for. 

Meg didn’t settle down. She didn’t commit. Christ, Cas had been married for ten fucking years. The thought of being with the same person for one year made her skin itch. 

It always seemed like people were just so careless with each other. There were expectations, responsibilities, for being in a ‘relationship’. Outside of cheesy movies and save your marriage advice, though, no one gave a shit about that. No one gave a shit about anything but themselves. People were in love with the idea of being in love. People didn’t want to love, they wanted to be loved. They wanted idealized cotton candy dreams they could sigh over, and that’s just not how it works. 

It was all bullshit, and the longer you got tangled up with someone the harder it was to see straight. Meg didn’t need that. She didn’t need to feel responsible for Cas, for his ‘feelings’. 

The more time she spent with him, the easier it was. Whatever was between them grew into a comfortable affection that scared the shit out of her when she wasn’t with him. It wasn’t just about sex. Meg had no idea how to handle things that weren’t about sex.

His presence lingered in her life when he was absent from it. The spaces he had occupied in her apartment the few times that he had visited there. The scent of him on her clothes. The sound of his voice in her head when she thought of something she wanted to share with him and answered herself in her own mind. Meg didn’t know what to do with how much of her life Cas was crowding into. It wasn’t purposeful, at least she didn’t think so. But it was something tangible and it made her frustrated to want something she hadn’t decided on wanting. 

Meg had never actually made plans for her life. Nothing solid. There were the vague day dreams of undeveloped youth, but at some point she had stopped wanting a future, had stopped wanting anything. It was too much effort to want much of anything when it was hard enough to get out of bed in the morning. 

After a suicide attempt at sixteen – pills from her father’s medicine cabinet, that’s just what girls do – that had landed her in the ICU for a week and therapy for years, everyone else seemed even more eager to tell her what she needed to do, supposing probably rightfully that she couldn’t decide for herself. She needed to think about her future, about college, to find a reason to live. But none of their reasons were her reasons, she didn’t know what her reasons were. 

Her father’s reasons were good enough. The sense of shame she felt in disappointing him kept her from trying again and she found other self destructive avenues to binge on her own self loathing. Her father had tried so hard to raise her and Tom the best that he could and Tom turned out just fine. Meg couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. She was good enough at passing for ‘ok’, skating by with a sheen of youthful flightiness and wild child temperament. With a stable job and mostly stable sanity she could keep afloat and reassure her father that yes, everything was fine. Everything would be fine. 

Meg didn’t have a plan. She was following someone else’s blue prints and waiting for some kind of revelation she didn’t believe existed. Settling down with some middle aged man was not part of the non-existent plan for a future that she never wanted anyway.

When her mood was set to bitter and resentful, Meg scowled her way through daily routine and consumed enough coffee to get by on the three hours a night of sleep she could force herself to get. She couldn’t settle inside the walls of her apartment and the smallness of her life, so she wandered the streets and read books in coffee shops, distracted herself with watching other people stumble through their own shitty lives. 

It occurred to her, over a too sweet mocha nestled in the corner of a tiny coffee shop, that she used to distract herself from her foul moods of existential angst with mindless hedonistic fucking of anyone and everyone that she took fancy to. She used to submerge herself in someone else’s life to forget her own. Sweat out her frustrations and doubts with something easy to understand. 

But she hadn’t had sex with anyone else in the months that she’d been with Cas. 

Fuck that. They weren’t together. Or they wouldn’t be for very long. 

There was a cute boy behind the counter. Medium build, a little pale, no visible tattoos, ears gauged wide, dark brown eyes and soft tousled blond hair. Nothing about him reminded Meg of Cas. He’d smiled at her, leaned over the counter and laughed, let his eyes flick over her. Meg had seen maybe two people come and go since she’d sat down here and no one else was staying in the shabby chic interior. 

It was easy. To finish her coffee and head back up. Rest her elbow on the counter and bend so he could see down the scoop of her shirt. Ask for a refill. Laugh and flirt and cock her hips until he was hers. Her words were empty, she was sure his were too, all she wanted was to feel something else, something good. 

He was nervous, like he couldn’t believe it was actually happening. A lot of guys, for all their daydreaming, don’t know what to do with a girl bold enough to demand what she wants. Meg dragged him in to the bathroom. She bit his neck to leave bruises on his skin. She didn’t give a fuck about him remembering her, she wanted to hurt him. He groaned and squeezed her hips and squirmed beneath her where she had him pinned to the wall. Grinding their hips together, Meg bit her way down his neck and tore his pants open before sinking to her knees. 

She only put her mouth on him long enough to get him hard. Standing again and leaning over the sink, Meg pushed her jeans down to mid thigh and angled herself back. His hands were rougher on her hips, growing more bold, one arm curling under her waist to hold her belly as he leaned along her back and whispered ‘slut’ in her ear when he shoved inside of her. 

Bracing one hand on the mirror and one on the sink, Meg pushed back. She looked at him curled over her in the mirror, the cruel twist to his lips and the hunger in his eyes. Meg loved that, that sense of being used of being dirty. Or she used to. She could understand herself better in the context of an object than that of a human. 

But it wasn’t quite right.

Because she couldn’t stop thinking about Cas’ slender fingers curled lightly against her cheek, about the way he smelled when she buried her face in his neck, about the rasp of his voice when he was close to climax, about how he held her, how he hummed against her neck when he thought she was asleep, about how squeezed her hip in the small space of the kitchen and tucked her feet under his thighs on the couch. She couldn’t even shove him out of her mind with someone else. 

When she looked in the mirror everything seemed unsaturated, unfocused. The blandness would piss her off if she weren’t so fucking tired. In the washed out faded world there was one goddam bright spot, a little spec that was Cas, and it was just too easy to latch on to him. She didn’t _want_ to need him, didn’t know how to do anything but use him. 

It wasn’t fair to either of them. 

Feeling guilt like this was kind of a new thing to Meg. It wasn’t like she didn’t have a conscience or never felt bad about things. Hell, she usually felt awful about things she couldn’t control. It didn’t really make any sense. But feeling guilty about this, it was new and she didn’t like it. 

As much as she told herself that she and Cas weren’t really a thing, or at least they wouldn’t be for very long, she sat across him at the scuffed wood table in his condo and felt something hot and tight curl in her gut like shame.

He’d cooked dinner. Spaghetti, with salad and garlic bread. Meg had brought wine over. She wasn’t really a wine connoisseur but she at least knew that a red wine went with spaghetti. Cas seemed happy with it. 

Meg didn’t have an appetite. She pushed her food around on her plate and took a bite every now and then. She nodded and tried to keep up with Cas’ admittedly sparse conversation. Sometimes they just lulled in to silence together, and it was usually nice with him, but not today. 

The longest ‘relationship’ she’d ever had with someone - and Ruby was always the exception - was probably about a few months. If you could call any of them relationships. Friends with benefits. Acquaintances with benefits. People you hate but are too damn hot to turn down with benefits. After so long on the same ride she just wanted to get off. It got boring. Annoying. Claustrophobic. 

There was only one person in life that Meg owed anything to, and that was herself. 

The silence lulled. She could hear the tinkle of the bell on Fish’s collar as he cleaned himself on the couch. Meg set down her fork and finished the wine in her glass with one gulp. Looking out the living room window, she said, “So I met this hot guy at a coffee shop yesterday and fucked him in the bathroom.”

She heard the clatter of Cas’ fork hitting his plate. “Excuse me?”

Meg didn’t really want to look at him, but she did anyway. He seemed more disbelieving like he might have heard it wrong. Squinting, fuck why was he always squinting. 

“Yeah. Dragged him in to the bathroom, blew him against the wall, bent over the sink - “

“Meg. What - why would you…”

“We’re not really a thing, right? I feel like this has kind of gotten old, playing house with you.”

He was just sitting there with his mouth hanging open a little. Blindsided. Yeah that seemed about right. Meg had never tried to give him the impression that she was anything good for him. 

“What do you mean playing house? I’m not playing. Aren’t you ….  I thought you were my girlfriend.”

That last part was said so quiet.

Meg could try to pretend this was a casual let down, cruel maybe, but it should get the point across. She didn’t expect it to hurt like this. “Told you, I don’t really do the whole relationship thing.”

“But we’re intimate together and I thought…”

“What you thought because I let you fuck me you have any right to me? Do you think that makes us ‘steady’?”

“Meg…”

“Oh don’t give me the fucking puppy eyes, you’re pathetic you know that.”

Cas’ eyes went wide, darting around the apartment before setting back on her, brow furrowed deeply. “Where did this come from? You have no right, it’s not necessary to do this to me. If you don’t want to see me anymore, you can just say. I don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

“Cas - “

“No, no I do understand what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away -“

“Fuck you, you don’t know anything.”

This, she was familiar with this. This she could believe, this felt right. Even if it twisted tighter in her sinking it’s barbs down and she knew it’d hurt to wrench it out, it’d hurt even more the longer she let it go on. 

Cas pushed his plate away and glowered at her across the table. He looked fucking livid. She’d never really seen him angry like this. Wounded. Meg battened down, rolled her eyes and pushed away from the table. His chair creaked and scraped over the tile floor as he followed suit. 

“I’m just gonna fucking go. This was never gonna last long, you gotta know that.”

“You’re trying to sabotage this, that’s why it’s not, Meg, if you’re having any problems with me then just tell me.”

“There’s nothing fucking wrong with you, and that’s the thing isn’t it? You’re so fucking normal Cas, what are you even doing with me? You’re gonna get tired of me eventually, when all of this stops being shiny and new and exciting to you, you’re gonna realize what I am and you’re gonna get tired, you won’t want to deal with my shit, and you know what I’m not gonna wait around for that to happen.”

“Wait you think I’m just going to discard you when you.. that I’ll just lose interest? Is that what this is, are you giving me reasons? Meg don’t you walk away.”

Halfway to the door, he grabbed her arm and spun her around. Meg was so ready to just leave, rip it off like a bandaid, hell this was worse, rip it out like torn stitches. She just couldn’t take the pressure anymore, couldn’t take trying when she didn’t know what she was trying for. His grip on her arm was hard and he loomed above her with all the height advantage he had. Though he’d had his stitches taken out, the red line across his forehead was still raised and scabbed. It’d leave a nice scar. 

“Don’t do this. Meg, I lo -”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t, don’t you fucking put that on me, don’t you put that responsibility on me!“

“What responsibility is there in being loved?”

“Because I can’t give that back to you, I can’t give you what you need, I can’t.”

She could hear herself growing more hysterical and it was like viewing it from the outside, disconnected. Like she wasn’t really in control.

Cas’ fingers were digging hard in to her skin through the sleeve of her shirt, she could feel her pulse under his fingertips when he said, “You don’t get to decide what I need. I’m not asking for reciprocation, I’m not asking for anything.”

“Yeah well that might be fun for a while for you, but I know it won’t be enough.”

“I’ve never known anyone like you, I don’t know where this is going, I don’t know what we’re doing, but do we have to know about what’s going to happen in a week or in a month?”

His hand slid down her arm, resting lightly on her wrist. He was close enough to feel his body heat, feel the tension seep from his body as he softened and slowed. She wasn’t going to fucking take his pity, or whatever idealistic bullshit he was trying to wrap his brain around. 

Meg scowled, “I’m not going to do this with you.”

Stepping away, he only followed, grip tightening again and pulling her in.

“Just tell me, right now, tell me that you don’t feel anything for me, that this never meant anything! Tell me that and I’ll let you go.”

She was rooted to the spot.Thoughts kept criss crossing a multitude of tangled paths until she couldn’t see what was behind and what was coming. 

It was on the tip of her tongue. The denial. That he meant nothing to her. But it lodged tight in her throat and she couldn’t hack it out, couldn’t manage one more lie to rip herself away and go back to the comfort of what she knew; even if it wasn’t a comfortable existence it was familiar and it was hers. She didn’t know what it meant to be with him, how to let herself want these things. 

Strong arms circled her waist and he kissed the top of her head. All the fury and the hurt she’d seen in him was fading. It was pathetic. How fucking stupid was he to trust her. 

Shoving him away, she disentangled. 

“I can’t deal with you being nice like this all the fucking time, get angry, for fuck’s sake.”

He tossed his hands up in the air, a wide gesture that took up space. He never really did that. Used economical movements, made himself smaller, quieter, unobtrusive. Meg could handle arguments and accusations; his calm made her tense like she was bracing for something. 

Pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose, he asked, “What good would getting angry do?”

“I don’t understand you Cas.”

“Because I’m nice? What, do you want me to hurt you, why?”

“I don’t like waiting for it.”

He grunted, frustrated, voice a low scowl, “I don’t understand what that means. Do you want me to hurt you because you think you deserve it? Do you think so little of yourself?”

Batting a concerned hand away, she scowled back. “It’s not about what I think about myself. You hold me to standards when you don’t even know what I am I can’t - “

Meg shifted from one foot to another, glanced over his shoulder at the door. She didn’t really want to leave but she didn’t want to stay. She wanted Cas to make a fucking decision, she wanted him to be a goddam human, to be angry and irrational. So she kept pushing, shoved his shoulder to knock him aside. But Cas, he grabbed her upper arm and spun her around, stumbling the few feet back to the kitchen table.

She tripped, feet tangling up with each other and one arm still in his strong grasp, bumped her hip against the table and fell splayed over it. A glass knocked over, shattering on the linoleum. His hold gentled, hands all apologies as he circled an arm loosely around her waist to pull her back up. Reaching up and back she fumbled to grab on to his wrist and curl fingers tightly around him, arching her back and pressing against him.

“Hurt me.”

It was a quiet exhalation like a confession, something she needed and didn’t know how to ask for.

“What?”

Dragging his arm up, curling her fingers over his around the column of her own throat, Meg squeezed.

“Please.”

“Meg.”

“Just make it hurt.”

Bracing an elbow on the table she pushed up and back, releasing his hand - which staid where it was put - in favor of unbuttoning her jeans and shoving them down. She understood this, this was familiar. She could feel him behind her, hard, feel the line of his cock when she ground her ass back against him. This wasn’t nice. This wasn’t pretty. Maybe she was being more cruel to him but she kept prodding and goading and even went so far as to beg. Because she couldn’t step out that door and she didn’t know how to be gentle. 

“I want you to hurt me.”

His fingers twitched against her throat, stroking gently before tightening and she felt him jostle behind her, opening his jeans, the heat of his body, bare skin of his hips against her. Meg could feel the hesitation in fine tremors and he started pulling away. His ragged breath was loud enough to hear his confusion. 

Twisting, Meg reached behind her and grasped his cock, guiding it towards her and she was a little too low down. Shimmying her jeans to her ankles she kicked out of one leg and lifted it to fold up on the table, standing on her toes on the other, balance wavering but he still had a hand around her neck and one went to her hip, holding tight as he shoved in. 

The table skittered forward. His hand tightened around her neck. Fingers curled over the curve of her hip. The tight deep ache in her chest started to ease. This. This was what she needed. He buried himself inside her and molded his body against her back, lips on the skin of her neck. She was so fucking wet already but the suddenness bolted a cramp up into her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering. One arm still holding her up on the table, the other reached to press against Cas’ hand still on her throat, begging, harder. 

_Hurt me. Use me._

His hand slid from under her, throat barely sore but she hadn’t realized how tight he squeezed until she sucked down a shuddering breath. Did he want her to beg more. Was he just going to quit on her now. 

Fingers pushed through her hair, twisted, pulled. Meg cried out startled. He yanked her head back and drew out to slam back in to her body, rough and sharp snaps of his hips he held her bowed taut barely standing on the floor with her head pulled back as he fucked in to her viciously. It was perfect. 

Everything was unraveling, loose limbed and pliable, she felt right in Cas’ arms like this, just like this. Every hard thrust rocking her up on her toes, body held in his control, the only sensation she could focus on was the violent thrumming under her skin that scraped her raw pulsing out and settling, unraveling. He grew rougher, neck aching with the angle and there might be bruises on her hips from his fingers she hoped, rhythm breaking erratic Meg could feel when his body wrapped tight around her and trembled.

His body jerked in to her viciously, his chest heaved against her back like a wild animal. He shoved her up off her toes, gripping her tight against his body wracked with release and he stilled. The tension seeped from taut muscles, arms loosening their hold. Meg dropped back down to her two feet solid on the linoleum floor.

She didn't feel solid. Hollowed out and buzzing with the frenzied pleasure whipped up in her veins, Meg trembled finely head to toe as he stepped back with his hands lingering on her body like a question.

Her jeans were still pooled around one ankle on the floor. She stepped in to the other leg and bent to pull them up. Faltered, lilting to the side with one leg cramped and her arms limp. He caught her, righted her.

Meg brushed his hand away, eyes cast down on her jeans, hair fallen around her face keeping her hidden. His hands lingered. Hovered. Questioning.

"Stay."

"I shouldn't - "

"Meg please don't - just .... come to bed."

Straightening up, Cas' hands on her hips, her shoulders, worriedly touching her, Meg kicked her jeans under the table and made her way down the hall without looking at him. She passed the bathroom, thinking of cleaning up, but tired and wrung out she decided to crawl into his bed instead. Cas was right behind her, jeans kicked into the corner of the room near the hamper, tugging his shirt off as he crawled in to bed next to her.

She didn't want to look at him. No, that wasn't right. She didn't want him to look at her.

"I'm on the pill, but you should probably get tested."

He rested a hand on her hip and pulled her on to her back. Meg curled on her side facing him.

"Hm?"

"I usually get tested every few months or so, but it's uh, you should probably ..."

"All right."

Chin tucked to her chest, his fingers brushed against her cheek and tried to turn her face up.

"Meg, please."

Pushing tangled hair away from her face he pressed a kiss to her forehead and his voice was rough, pained. "I don't know what to do here. I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not good enough," she tried not to think it to herself but she knew it was true when she confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not right for you, you'll realize eventually, you won't - I don't want you to be angry when you realize I'm not what you think."

"I still don't understand."

"You're meant to be with a nice girl."

"I was for a decade, and it wasn't what I wanted. Meg, I know that… that this'll be hard, but I want to try. Just stay. We'll figure it out."

She pressed her face against the pillow, inhaling the familiar smell that immediately calmed her another notch as her breathing started to steady. 

Cas tugged a blanket up over the both of them. He was quiet when he added, “If that’s what you want.”

His arm curled over her shoulders pulling her close to his body, wrapping her up protectively. Meg tucked her head against his chest and it was a little easier to talk without having to look at him. “I want it too much.”

He stroked down her back, broad hand light and warm against her skin, fingers curling to trace patterns against her. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, his foot crossing on top of her ankle as he tangled their bodies together. It was warm and quiet, like so many times they’d spent together in his bed. Meg’s throat still hurt faintly, all her tension drained, she felt deflated. 

Cas’ chest pushed out with a sigh. ”I think, that... you should see someone.”

"What do you mean?” Meg curled her hands against her chest and pressed her nose to his sternum. 

"Would you consider seeing a therapist?"

"What?"

"I don't really know what's wrong, I don't think I can be what you need, but, it could help if you see someone. Please consider it."

His arms tightened around her when she tensed. ”I don't need to see a goddam therapist."

"It's not a bad thing, Meg. I saw a psychologist for years after I got out of the hospital, I was on medication for ptsd and depression, it took a long time to work through. Seeing someone can help, you need the support."

"Jesus christ Cas, these are completely different situations."

"I know, but I still think it would help you."

"I don't need a therapist, ok. You had a fucking reason, to need that. I'm just. I'm a fucking normal kid from middle class suburbia, there's nothing wrong to fix, I have a good life, I have no fucking reason to be like this."

She had no reason to be like she was, but Meg still felt the heat blooming in her face as her eyes prickled and she hated the goddam tingle in her nose. His arms tightened and she stopped fighting and sagged against him again when he muttered, “Please.”

Sliding an arm over his waist, pulling him closer digging her fingers into his skin, Meg wiped her cheek against his chest. “I’ll think about it.”

He brought his hand up to push through her hair, tugging at a few tangles, soothing as he cradled the back of her head. 

“You really want to be my boyfriend huh?”

At that he pulled her head back gently to kiss her forehead and look at her when he said, “Yes.”

Meg rolled her eyes at him. She scoffed when she said, “You’ll have to meet my parents if you want to be my boyfriend.”

She was lightening the mood for herself, finding it hard to take anything too seriously for too long. Easier to move on and shove it aside and figure it out later. 

But Cas smiled at her, all wide and honest, when he said, “I’d love to.”

Fuck.

Meg scowled at the buttercup yellow painted door and scuffed her boot on the welcome mat. Cas’ hand was warm and solid at the small of her back as he stood next to her, waiting patiently. They were on the porch of her father’s modest bungalow, the house she grew up in. All the gray trim had been painted yellow recently, the siding a bright white. Her dad had never been one for gardening, he was probably too busy raising two kids by himself to do more than the minimum on maintenance. But since Luc had moved in the entire perimeter of the house had been wrapped in bright flower gardens. 

After wiping her boots more than necessary, Meg finally knocked. 

It wasn’t like she didn’t like her parents. Az had done his best as a single dad after their mother disappeared when Meg was six. Sometimes she and Tom had to look after themselves, but they grew up strong and independent for it. And Meg liked Luc, she really did, even if she was a bratty little shit to him as a teenager. He didn’t seem to hold it against her. 

It was just hard sometimes. Knowing what to say or do. She knew both her dads were proud of her, it wasn’t like her life was a total mess. She’d graduated college, held down a steady job, had her own apartment. As far as young adults went, she was doing pretty good. She just couldn’t help feeling like a total mess. Like a disappointment. Like it wasn’t really good enough, even though her parents never made her feel like that. 

The door swung open and her dad was smiling wide as he pulled her over the threshold in a hug. 

“Pumpkin, it’s so good to see you.”

He wore jeans and a black tank, the soft flannel over shirt like the kind he’d worn since she was a kid had the sleeves rolled up, the tattoos down to his wrists visible. There were more creases in his face, around his eyes, since the last time she’d seen him. Meg wondered if he was really aging that fast, or if she just didn’t notice until he’d changed so much. 

Luc appeared at the end of the hallway wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He had the same kind of casual style her father did, the same sort of skulls and snakes tattoos down his arms. They were a good match for each other. 

Luc crossed his arms over his chest, “Is that Meg and her boy yet?”

Cas followed behind her and shut the door.

Az held a hand out to him, and Cas balanced his dessert in one hand to shake it. “Hello. It’s good to meet you.”

“Daddy, this is Cas.”

Luc swept forward and took the bowl from him. Cas offered it up saying, “I brought desert. Scones.”

Luc held the bowl against his hip to shake hands. “Smells delicious. I’m glad you could come up.”

“Of course.”

Az swept Cas towards the dining room, and Luc disappeared back in to the kitchen. 

“Luc made lasagna for dinner, I hope you like Italian.”

Meg followed after them, picking her usual seat at the dining room table. It was an oblong table, made with light wood but she didn’t know what kind, and it had sat in the house since she could remember. The dining room walls weren’t covered with hideous orange floral wall paper anymore, thank gods, but had been stripped and painted a pale blue. Pictures of her and Tom lined one wall, the hutch in the corner boasting the fine china that was pretty much never used, and the bay window had a cushion seat that the old calico cat could almost always be found lounging in. She was laying in the sun there, completely disinterested in Meg’s return even though Meg was always the one to sneak her scraps. Well, maybe the cat still remembered playing ‘dress up’. 

Honestly, Meg lived close enough to visit more frequently than obligatory holidays, but she hardly ever did. Her dads were nothing but happy to see her, and even if they might seem a bit judgmental of Cas, they were polite. Dinner conversation went a lot better than she expected, mostly the standard ‘where do you work’ and background questions. It wasn’t even than awkward when Luc asked how they had met. Dinner was delicious too. 

Meg let Luc drag her in to the kitchen to help with dishes after dinner, leaving her father and Cas alone in the dining room. She still kept an ear on their conversation. Part of her was nervous about the impression her parents would make on Cas, and part of her was nervous about the impression Cas would make on her parents. She honestly didn’t know which was worse. But really, Cas was the most straight laced nice guy she’d ever brought home. And she barely brought any guys – or girls – home because they usually weren’t the kind you introduced to your parents. 

She’d never really had anyone as serious as Cas before. What did it mean - that she wanted everyone to get along - if not that she was picturing Cas sticking around for a while? 

“Does he take care of you?”

Luc jarred her out of her thoughts. He was buried elbows deep in sudsy water while Meg dried the dishes.

“I don’t need a man to take care of me.”

Luc nudged her with a foot and passed her a bowl. “Of course you don’t _need_ anyone to take care of you. But isn’t it nice to have someone who _wants_ to take care of you?”

Meg thought about that. She didn’t want to need anyone, didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. But it was kind of nice, the things Cas did for her.

“He brought me soup when I was sick a few weeks ago.”

“That’s sweet. Are you all right, it wasn’t anything serious was it?”

She shook her head, putting the dried dishes away in the cupboard. “No, nothing serious. Just a cold.”

Meg was just starting to think they might actually get through a relatively normal dinner with her parents when she heard her dad ask Cas, “So, do you do drugs?”

Luc was stifling a laugh next to her. Meg grabbed the kitchen towel to wipe her hands on and leaned against the door frame from the kitchen to dining room as Cas was squinting at her father answering like he wasn’t really sure of the answer with, “No.”

“Daddy.”

Az just kept on going. “Are in you in a gang?”

“Uh…. No.”

“Dad!”

“Have you ever been to prison?”

“No.”

“Goddamit dad quit it.”

Luc popped up next to her in the door frame, “Coffee’s done, who wants dessert?”

Az looked over at them with the sweetest smile on his face. “Sure. Why don’t I show Cas the photo album?”

Meg groaned as Luc pushed past her with a carafe. “Oh god really?”

“Bring in the scones pumpkin?”

She grabbed the scones off the counter and her dads were already flanking Cas with the photo album as they poured coffee and settled down. 

Cas looked up at her with a happy smile as she set the scones down, “Thank you.”

“You don’t actually want to see kid photos of me, do you?”

“I’d love to.”

“God, it’s so embarrassing though.”

Cas just shrugged, “I have a photo album somewhere at home, I could show it to you if you’d like. I was a very awkward child.”

Az slapped him on the shoulder, “Now, you should bring that up so we can all look. If you can drag Meg up here every now and then, I’d sure appreciate it.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

Meg huffed a sigh and sat across from them as her dad opened up the album. “She was the cutest baby, so chubby, and right around three she went through a phase where she absolutely refused to wear pants…”

Fixing herself a cup of coffee, Meg was sorely tempted to reach across the table and tear the photo book away from her dads, who were eagerly pointing things out. Cas had a stupid grin plastered on his face. Az looked even older than Meg could remember, his hair starting to thing and recede. It hadn’t been, what, a half a year since her last visit. He was almost fifty five. 

Cas laughed at something, and Meg wasn’t really paying attention. She remembered how he told her that he’d finally decided to get divorced and move away when his mother had died. Like he didn’t have to try to be normal and happy with what he had for her anymore. He’d moved states away to live with his friends because he didn’t have family anymore. No brothers or sisters. 

Meg didn’t much feel like complaining when she thought about that, watching her dads with Cas, her boyfriend, and she wondered if it was kind of weird to want to share your family. It was a little frightening how fast she’d grown to feel such a swell of affection for him. It was almost too big. But it wasn’t just up to her, whatever was between them. Cas had a say in it too, and Luc was right, if he _wanted_ to take care of her, she didn’t really have a say in what he wanted. 

What she had a say in was what she wanted, and maybe it was kind of nice to need someone, to be needed. 

She still rolled her eyes across the table petulantly when they all laughed at a photo, and stuffed a scone in her mouth. 

Damn but Cas made good scones.


	7. I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl

"We should go somewhere."

Meg yawned and tilted her head to look up from Castiel's lap to his face, the credits rolling for 'Antique's Roadshow' playing on the TV. Fish huffed a cat sigh and resituated on to Meg’s belly as she rolled to her back on the couch.

"What?"

Castiel ran his fingers through her hair, looking out the window where cotton ball clouds trailed lazily across the blue sky, and then back to her soft brown eyes blinking up at him.

"We should go somewhere, it's nice out. Would you go for a walk down to the canal with me?"

"I'm sleepy."

"Taking a walk would energize you."

Meg groaned and pressed her face to his belly. She'd texted him when she got off work, grumpy and frustrated. It was becoming routine for her to drop by most evenings, sometimes for an hour and sometimes for the whole night. 

"Don't wanna."

She groused and started rubbing her face against him. A ploy, no doubt, to distract him from his nefarious plotting to go outside.

"Come on, let me show you the ducks, they're usually out. I've been watching the little ones grow."

"That's way too fucking wholesome."

Castiel nudged her head up and slid out from beneath her, stretching his arms up while she scowled at him. Fish gave up and ran away to the bedroom where the furniture didn't move quite so much.

Padding in to the kitchen, Castiel grabbed a lightweight red pull over hoodie from the hook over the utility room door, tugging it down over his t-shirt. Shuffling his feet into some sneakers, he pocketed his keys, standing at the door waiting as he watched Meg's head appear over the arm of the couch.

"Please."

Castiel smiled at her, and she rolled her eyes but stood and came to the door to tug on her biker boots. There was a space in his bedroom closet for a few sets of her spare clothes by now. Somehow, an extra pair of boots had found their home in the kitchen closet too. 

Meg grumbled, ”Whatever. If I get a sunburn you have to rub me down with aloe."

"The path is shaded."

"I burn easy."

Castiel ignored Meg’s grousing as he rummaged in a cupboard for the small bag of bird seed that he kept to feed the ducks every now and then. Meg had her jacket pulled on, leaning against the door way and cocking an eyebrow at him as he tucked the half empty bag underneath an arm. 

“Seriously, you actually bought pet food for the ducks in the canal?”

“Did you know that you’re not supposed to feed ducks bread?”

She shrugged with a ‘who cares’ attitude as they made their way in to the hall and Castiel locked the door behind him. 

He continued, “You should actually feed ducks with natural seeds or grains that are more similar to what they would forage for in the wild. Plain white bread does not offer much nutritional value. Which, really, goes for humans as well.”

Meg rolled her eyes and scuffed a boot on the side walk in front of his building as Castiel led her towards the canal path by the section of forest behind the condos. 

She tucked her hands in her pockets and scowled. “But wheat bread is gross.”

“I like seven grain breads. They have a nice texture.”

“Too chewy. And expensive.”

“Ah. Healthier options are usually prohibitively expensive.” 

Puffy white clouds scuttled over head through a pale blue sky and a gentle breeze swayed the reeds on the side of the canal path. It was a pleasant day out, bordering on chilly. They fell in to a silence as they meandered down the straight, well maintained gravel lane. Castiel dared to inch closer to Meg’s side and tug one of her hands from her pocket. Although she jostled him with a shoulder, she let her hand be taken and curled her fingers through his. 

If Castiel could become more accustomed to more blatant and forward displays of sexual affection, Meg could become more accustomed to his gentle displays of romantic affection. She didn’t have to understand. Just holding hands was nice. 

Ten minutes down the path was Castiel’s usual spot to stop where he frequently found the family of ducks. He led Meg over to the bench and settled down with the bag of bird seed between them. It only took scattering a handful to the one mallard duck present for the family of ducklings to come over and find out what the fuss was. And then Meg even took a handful of seed to scatter along the shore as well for the still yellow fluffy baby ducks to waddle up and peck at. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Meg turned towards him, punching him lightly on the shoulder before propping an arm on the back of the bench. Her eye liner was smudged in the corners, lips turned up in a small resistant smile. 

“Yeah I am and you better not tell anyone.”

“Of course not. My lips are sealed.”

She narrowed her gaze at him before humming in agreement and fishing another handful of seed out of the bag. A pair of joggers passed behind them, gravel crunching under foot, and the sway of the trees in the wind was a gentle sound. Meg eased closer to him, inch by inch, surreptitiously placing the bag of seed on the ground after scattering a handful for hungry ducklings. Her shoulder nudged against him, and Castiel lifted his arm for her to settle underneath. Tipping her head against his shoulder, Meg sighed and relaxed against him. 

It had been weeks since the incident, but there were many things that still bothered Castiel. He was working through it. Worst of all, it felt as though he were so easily replaceable. He could understand, on a theoretical level, that Meg was driven by motives he could never grasp completely, that it wasn’t so much an issue of emotional fidelity. If anything, Castiel felt that she had voluntarily apprised him of the situation - better late than never but that still left a bitter taste - because of a sense of guilt. 

Sometimes, Castiel wondered if his two sole previous relationships were less about the individuals than about the idea of a relationship. It had never been like that with Meg, she blindsided him, she was all passion and contradiction and unknowables. Castiel could grasp that he was never meant to be anything to her, not at first. He was left with the question of whether she was still here because she had no where else to be or because she didn’t want to be anywhere else even if she had no idea why. 

He figured, although they might not both be in the same boat, it were possible they were in the same ocean. 

A hand settled on his thigh, squeezing lightly. Meg kissed the side of his neck, breath warm and lips soft, shivering across his shoulders. She was burrowed against him where he couldn’t look directly into her eyes when she almost whispered, “So I started seeing someone.”

“Hm?”

“Oh not like - not …. I started going to a therapist.”

“Meg. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Actually, I went to this one guy and he was a dick, but a co-worker recommended someone else, and they’re kind of nice. I guess. They want me to start taking medicine.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I could try it.”

Castiel twisted to kiss the top of her head, placing a hand over hers on his thigh. “Everyone needs help sometimes, you know. It’s not like you always will. I hope it helps.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“I want you to be happy Meg.”

“I can’t just decide to be happy.”

“I know. But you can try, and you can let me help. I like taking care of you.”

Leaning closer still, pressed against his side, she nudged against his jaw and kissed the shell of his ear. “I like taking care of you too.” 

Game nights were, in Castiel’s opinion, superior to bar nights. He did enjoy going out every now and then with his friends for a few drinks, but it was exhausting and stressful to him. Relaxing at Dean and Benny’s house with a few beers and board games stretched out on the dining room table, that was more to Castiel’s pace. 

Sam as it turned out had taken the construction job that Dean procured for him. Castiel suspected that he would stick around for longer than the summer though, given how he talked about Ruby. He diverted direct questions frequently, but couldn’t seem to not mention her without even realizing. She was a fairly nice girl, if strange and a bit crass, but she was Meg’s best friend after all. 

Benny chatted about the restaurant and the new ovens they were considering purchasing while Dean shook his head like he had something to say about it but it was an old worn out argument. Castiel didn’t know anything about ovens, but he nodded politely and listened. 

A game of Risk was set up to start on, since it required the most thinking. As they had a few drinks it would eventually taper off into cards. But for now, every sat around making small talk to catch up as they set up their armies. The strategy games were Castiel’s favorite. He was too used to knowing how Dean and Benny played, having Sam around recently gave him a much desired challenge.

Conversation circled back around to Sam’s relationship with Ruby, again, and he tried to shrug it off when Dean asked how serious they were. 

Sam moved a group of his armies against one of Dean’s territories. “Dean would you stop pushing me about it, we just, are what we are. We have an understanding.” 

Dean huffed, “I just don’t want you to get hurt, you’re getting attached. What is an ‘understanding’ anyway?”

Rattling the dice in his hand, Sam replied, “We both know what we want and it’s nothing serious. We’re not really committed, we’re… having fun.”

Curious, Castiel asked, “Do you mean you have an open relationship?”

“Yeah kinda,” Sam shrugged and tossed his dice.

“Dude, those never work,” Dean mumbled shifting his pieces. 

Benny seemed content to be staying out of the conversation. 

Sam passed his turn. “And how would you know that Dean. Have you ever had one?”

“No. But I’ve been with plenty of people.”

Resting an elbow on the table, Sam sighed, “It doesn’t matter how many people you’ve slept with. Everyone involved has to agree to have an open relationship.”

Castiel considered his options, in the game and as he tried thinking of his next question. “Have you ever had a fulfilling open relationship?”

Sam smiled as he angled towards Castiel. “Yeah I have. I can go either way, whether it’s monogamous or poly. It just depends who I’m with, what they need and how we work together, you know?”

Castiel considered this as he counted out pieces. 

Dean looked affronted. “No way, Sammy, when were you ever in an open relationship?”

Sam shrugged,“You remember my girlfriend Jess, in college?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah.”

“And my room mate Brady?”

Dean leaned closer over the table, “Yeah?”

“Well, he was more than a room mate, all three of us were in an open relationship.”

Benny was still quiet, studying the board. 

Dean gaped, “No way.”

“Yeah. I mean, so we were all in a relationship together but it was still kind of a closed relationship you know?”

Castiel tapped his finger against his cards. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Benny nudged Sam, “Your turn.”

Distracted momentarily, Sam started moving pieces around before he answered Castiel again. “So, me and Jess and Brady we were in a threeway relationship but it wasn’t open to anyone else. It wasn’t a monogamous relationship but it wasn’t open. There are a lot of different kinds of poly. You just have to figure out what works for you. The three of us saw each other but no one else.”

Nodding, Castiel replied, “I think I understand.”

Dean was watching fascinated across the table, completely ignoring Sam’s moves. 

Sam continued, “Yeah it was pretty great for a while until we graduated and I had other things I wanted to do with my life, you know. But in the Corps, see I met a guy there, Kevin. And we had a relationship but it was more casual, it was completely open. We saw each other regularly but we also saw anyone else we wanted to.”

Dean, in mock disapproval, tutted. “Sam you fucking slut.”

“Oh whatever Dean. You had a lot of one night stands with people, there’s nothing wrong with forming deeper connections but not being sexually monogamous.”

Sam pointed out his moves and rolled as he continued talking. “You just have to set boundaries Cas, talk about it, honesty and communication are the two most important things.”

“I’m not sure how to initiate the conversation on this topic,” Castiel confessed. 

“It can be hard putting it all out there, but you’ll feel a lot better getting it off your chest and you might figure out something that’ll work better for the two of you.”

It went unspoken that this was about he and Meg, but Castiel assumed that they could assume. 

Benny shook his head and said gently, “I don’t think I could ever share.”

Dean slung an arm across his shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to his neck. “Yeah me neither.”

Sam’s smile softened. “Hey, to each their own.”

Conversation lapsed into quiet as they focused on the game again, several turns passing as armies were shuffled around and territories conquered. Castiel finished the beer he had and looked around to see if anyone else would want another when a thought suddenly occurred to him. 

"Is this a midlife crisis?"

Dean tipped his head back in raucous laughter.

"I'm serious, am I having a mid life crisis?"

Sam just shook his head across the table.

Benny slapped Cas on the shoulder. "Brother, you might be. Just don't cash in your four-oh-one-k for a sport's car, an' you'll be fine.”

The stainless steel kettle in the kitchen whistled, sending a plume of steam up. Castiel turned the stove off, set the kettle aside on a trivet on the counter, and regarded the new coffee pot occupying it’s space on his gray formica counter tops. Half full, it was done brewing. Absent mindedly, Castiel picked his favorite tea - Earl Gray - and two mugs out of the cupboard. He ripped the tea packet open to dangle the tab over the edge of the cobalt blue mug and pour hot water over it. In other ceramic mug with a faded daisy pattern that looked like it had crawled out of the seventies he poured hot coffee a half inch from the rim and stirred a generous spoon of sugar in. Retrieving the honey, he stirred a spoonful in to his tea and let it steep a minute as he turned the coffee pot off and tossed the grinds. 

Taking both cups in to the living room, he rounded the edge of the couch that was empty and slid in between it and the coffee table sitting down gingerly. 

Meg, feet propped up and Fish asleep on her lap, slid a scrap piece of paper into the book she was reading and set it on the arm of the couch before reaching for her cup of coffee. Cradling her slender hands around it, she hummed lightly and blew across the surface before taking a sip. 

“Mmm, just right. Shit I think you got a better coffee pot than I do.”

“I did buy a different brand than you told me. It was on sale.”

“Really?”

Blowing on his tea, Castiel decided to let it cool a little longer and set it on the coffee table to pull his basket of knitting needle supplies out from underneath. 

“Wesley Farms. I get it at Marc’s.”

“Huh. Show me where you get it next time we go together. ”

Holding the mug in one hand, Meg stroked down the cat’s back who purred contentedly and stretched his legs out to let his paws dangle over the side of her thighs. It seemed Fish wasn’t interested in spending much time with Castiel anymore, not when he had her lap as option. To be honest, he was glad that the cat liked her and that she liked Fish, but it still stung a little. 

Out past the large living room windows the sun was dipping behind suburbia setting the sky to swirling with sherbet colors.  On the small TV across the table from them, a documentary was playing about spiders. It was a perfect Friday evening, in Castiel’s idea. They switched back and forth on picking what to do most Fridays. Although Castiel tended towards staying in, Meg sometimes picked that as well. They went out with their friends sometimes, occasionally to a movie or a show. 

Every now and then, Meg would show up on his door step early and they’d go grocery shopping together. This meant that she didn’t have work for a few days and would stay for the weekend. One of the dresser drawers in Castiel’s bedroom had been emptied for her to keep spare clothes in his place. A second toothbrush occupied the cup next to his. There was junk food in the cupboards. 

Although there was a little more regularity, more definition he could understand to their relationship, there were many things left unsaid. Castiel was used to rules, knowing exactly what his place was and what was expected of him. Meg turned everything around. Castiel might not understand what he was getting himself in to, but he knew that he needed Meg on his side. 

She was content with a good cup of coffee and a cat in her lap. He figured that there might never really be a good time for a difficult conversation but now was as good as any. 

Hands still occupied with his knitting, Castiel shifted a leg up on to the couch and turned towards Meg. She was sipping her coffee, book still set aside, watching avidly as a thick legged spider slowly crawled across an elaborate web towards a fly stuck therein. 

Perhaps he should turn the television off. 

Instead Castiel simply asked, “Meg would you consider a polyamorous relationship with me?”

Snorting into her coffee, she turned her head, one slender brow curved up as an unreadable range of things flicked over her face. “You’re serious. Like, an open relationship?”

“Well not entirely open. I think we should discuss boundaries. And that it’s something we should do together.”

“Really, Mr Rodgers ‘I knit and feed the ducks for fun’ wants to have a ‘free love’ relationship?”

Meg frowned briefly before leaning forward to set her mug down. Fish stood and jumped off her lap to trail off somewhere else in the condo as she turned towards him with her legs folded up on the couch. 

“You actually would try this, wouldn’t you. Why?”

Although he had been thinking about this for weeks, he still had to think of the correct way to say it. “It’s not the sexual aspect of our relationship that’s most important to me. I don’t expect… to be everything that you want, everything that you need. Meg I just want you to be safe, I think we should do this together, we could. All I want is for you to be honest. Give me the respect and courtesy of that and I think that we could make this work.”

She was quiet when she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “I don’t know why you would want to.”

“You don’t really have to understand why I would want to. Just try.”

“So what, you wanna take me out to swingers pot lucks or something?”

“We could try that.”

Her head tipped back, loose hair curling down around her ears, and laughed. “You would wouldn’t you. Oh god I can just picture you on some online forum researching about this shit, making a fucking casserole to take to an orgy or something.”

“I don’t know if I’d be quite so adventuresome for an orgy. I am getting a little old.” 

“You’re never too old for your first orgy.”

Leaning over Meg resituated herself to drape over his lap and lay her head on his thigh. Castiel tucked loose hair behind her ear and traced down the graceful line of her jaw. She sighed and rolled onto her back to turn her face and press it against his stomach. 

“You’re too good to me Cas. And - I’m, I’m sorry. If I hurt you.”

“It happens. If you don’t repeat the same mistake, we can learn from it.”

“All right.”

Fish returned to perch on the edge of the couch, staring at them judgmentally that they’d rather pet each other than him, or so Castiel presumed. There was something small tucked in under his knitting yard sitting just a few feet away, hidden. He was worried of Meg interpreting the gesture the wrong way. Or of not wanting it. 

Castiel was almost certain it would be the right gesture. He was surprised at how easily this conversation had gone so far, although there would be a lot to figure out and experience was most likely the best teacher. But Meg was still here, curled in his lap. 

Bending forward to reach over her for his basket, he tugged the small envelope out. Meg looked up at him curiously, her slender fingers playing teasingly with the hem of his shirt. It was very easy for her to distract him from serious matters. 

“I’d like you to have these.”

Castiel pressed the envelope into her hands. Meg, still lying on her back, held it up and opened it with hesitant curiosity. 

“Cas.”

Brow furrowed, she compared the two air plane tickets dated for eleven months in the future for a flight to Paris. 

“You don’t have to accept it. I know you don’t really like it when I give you things, but please just… I wanted to. And I don’t want you to feel pressured. But….”

“It’s too much.”

“It’s not. You know it’s not. Let me give you something.”

Breathy laughter bubbled out of her mouth and she smacked him on the hip. “Fucking Paris, seriously, the most over romanticized cheesy couples thing to do, that’s what you pick?”

He settled one hand on her stomach, warm through a t-shirt, rising and falling slowly. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”

“Well they do have some great cabarets.”

“Will you go with me?”

Meg shuffled the tickets back and forth, tucking one in the envelope and passing it back to him as she sat up and tucked the other in her book alongside the book mark. 

“You keep yours, I’ll keep mine. And I’ll see you in Paris then.”

Castiel neatly tucked the flap of the envelope back inside and set it in his knitting basket. Meg brought her book over as she settled in his lap again, stretched out along the couch. Fish reclaimed his spot on her hip again. The sun was set outside, the sky a light azure of settling dusk. 

This was a start. Or, another start hopefully for a better adventure. It was a promise. A commitment of sorts. A lot could happen in eleven months, but they could promise to each other to try hard enough. It was a statement. That he might not know what would happen between now and then, but he could know something for certain. He could know where Meg would be in eleven months.

She’d be by his side. 


End file.
